Cellmate
by BingeB
Summary: Merlin is dead. No, really. He has just called the most powerful man in prison a prat. A prat he just happens to be cellmates with. Cue fireworks! *Prison!AU*
1. The Roommate from Hell

**SUMMARY**: Merlin is dead. No, really. He has just called the most powerful man in prison a prat. A prat he just happens to be cellmates with.

**Rating**: M

**Genre**: Modern AU, prison AU

**Pairings**: Arthur/Merlin, Gwen/Lancelot

**Warnings**: Explicit sexual situations! SLASH! Language. **_Don't like, don't read! You have been warned!_**

**Disclaimer**: I own nothing.

**_NOTES_**: This is obviously a prison!AU, but having never been to prison myself (other than to visit), there are some things that are obviously not wholly accurate. I've had to use artistic license to make some parts of the story work, and most of my knowledge comes from watching _Bad Girls _on the TV. Which is admittedly not the most reliable source XD

I wrote this fic a couple of years ago, and it was actually the first Merlin fic I attempted, so I hope it's still ok! XD

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><p><strong>Cellmate<strong>

**Chapter One - Roommate from Hell**

**(1/14)**

Biting his lip to suppress his cries, Merlin was escorted forcefully from the court, arms clamped and hands trembling. He moved into the back of the police van in an almost catatonic trance, body numb but mind whirling. Tears leaked from the corner of his eyes, but he remained quiet, determined not to start wailing for his mother; he was going to have to be strong now, if he actually wanted to finish his sentence alive.

He could barely believe it. He was going to spend the next few years confined to a cell, showering with perverts and no doubt having tea with mass-murderers. The whole thing, Merlin decided, was just a little bit shit. So much for the justice system.

He sat through the journey in silence, body shaking, sweat trickling down the back of his neck, feeling weak and confined in his handcuffs. He could barely bring himself to move, even as he van stopped, and merely recoiling from the door as it opened. The officers were forced to try and usher him out, hands gripping painfully on his arms.

He was marched into the jail swiftly - or at least it seemed swiftly to him, in his dazed state - stripped of his belongings and shown to a guard, who had been asked to escort him to his cell.

But instead of the large angry man he had envisioned, the guard was a tall, pale woman, with dark, tumbling curls, so long that they almost reached her waist. Beautiful and striking, she held herself with an air of authority, back straight and expression impassive. If she didn't look so intimidating, Merlin might of wondered how she handled being a prison guard.

According to her name tag her name was Morgana de Fay, a name Merlin made a dim mental note to remember.

"Follow me," she ordered, looking him up and down, quirking an eyebrow, before twisting gracefully on a heel.

Realising that he didn't really have much of an option, Merlin trailed after her, wincing slightly as she led him directly into the prison compound, bustling with prisoners. The noise hit him like a blow to the chest, and he staggered, because this was _actually_ happening. It was real now, and it wasn't going away. He was a _prisoner_.

He could feel eyes following him as he walked, but he dared not look up, his eyes trained carefully to the floor. He could hear loud voices and boisterous laughter of the other prisoners around him, and could not stop the feeling of dread settling in his stomach.

He was shy and awkward at the best of times - big crowds and community living wasn't really his thing.

He was eventually led to a cell, down the end of a corridor and up some stairs, which he supposed would be his home for the foreseeable future.

Morgana stood back and allowed him to enter, no doubt giving him the opportunity of assess his new room alone. And just as he imagined, it was small, dark and square, with a steel bunk bed pressed up against one wall.

In fact, the most interesting thing about the whole room was not the décor, but the occupant, who was laying on the bottom bed and flicking through a magazine with disinterest.

From what Merlin could see he was tall and blond, well-built and with a faint tan. His hair fell softly around his face, but his features were sharp and angular, like a model, and he indeed wore the same haughty expression. He was wearing dark jeans and a white vest top, which exposed his long muscular arms that flexed as he moved.

The shallow side of Merlin couldn't help but be pleased by the stranger's appearance, because on any other day he'd be drooling where he stood - but there was a voice at the back of his mind, quiet and mocking, insisting that the man was probably a murderer. A cold, hard murderer, who would kill him while he slept. It wasn't a happy thought.

And as if to confirm Merlin's suspicions, upon his entrance, the man looked up and fixed him with a rather unpleasant steely blue-eyed stare, destroying any hopes of a somewhat comfortable living environment. Merlin resisted the urge to groan, and his stomach sank swiftly through the floor.

"Do I know you?" the blond asked, eyes narrowed, as Merlin shifted uncomfortably under the scrutiny.

Thrown by being addressed so rudely, he stuck out his hand, and announced, "Uh, I'm Merlin."

"So, I don't know you?" the stranger responded, ignoring the offered hand completely and continuing to eye him dubiously.

"Um, no," Merlin replied uncertainly, feeling slightly dazed by the piercing blue of the man's eyes. His instincts were practically screaming at him to cower - to simply turn and flee the room - but he was as good as trapped, and he'd never been very good at running anyway.

"You're the new prisoner," the blond continued, seemingly talking to himself more than Merlin. He looked thoughtful now, rather than threatening, but his eyes were still trained unblinkingly on Merlin's face.

"Um, yes," he confirmed, although the stranger had not phrased his statement as a question.

The blond raised an eyebrow, looking decidedly unimpressed with Merlin's response. Throwing him one more distasteful look, he turned back to his magazine and continued to read, evidently having grown bored with the whole conversation, and indeed Merlin in general.

The dark-haired hovered awkwardly in the middle of the room, unsure of what to say, when in a stroke of unusual luck, the pretty guard came in behind him.

"I see you're already acquainted," she said, eyeing the blond man warily, which did nothing to quell Merlin's fear. If the formidable Morgana was afraid of him, Merlin was most definitely screwed. "Pendragon, this is your new roommate, Merlin Emrys. Emrys, this is Arthur Pendragon."

The stranger - Arthur, apparently - merely gave him a small grunt of acknowledgement, and flipped carelessly through the pages of his magazine, far too quickly to actually be reading anything.

"So, Emrys," Morgana continued breezily, evidently having not expected any other reaction from Arthur, "You will be expected to keep to a schedule. Breakfast is at seven every morning, and showering takes place from eight 'til nine. You'll have lunch at twelve and dinner in the evening at six to seven. During the day you'll be expected to do work, with a few hours of spare time each day, depending on the rota."

Merlin was unable to do anything but nod, mind whirling with the onslaught of information. It was all starting to seem so real. He really was going to have spend the next three years living in fear, confined to a cell and eating on command - like nothing more than an animal.

"Lockdown at eleven each night, when we close all the cells," the guard said, evidently not sensing Merlin's mounting distress. "Any questions?"

Merlin shook his head, despite knowing that in his panic he'd probably missed half the speech; he just couldn't even bring himself to care. All he wanted to do was go home, curl up in his bed and drift off into a deep peaceful slumber.

Unfortunately, he had a feeling he'd be sleeping with one eye open for the next three years, just in case his new roommate tried to spontaneously attack him, as he'd heard most criminals were known for doing. After all, the blond certainly had the muscles for it.

"Well, I'll leave you to it then," the guard finished, giving Merlin a small quirk of her lips. Giving both prisoners a quick nod of the head, she turned and left the room in a show of effortless grace, shutting the door and bolting it firmly shut behind her.

Merlin gulped.

He stood in the middle of the room, unsure of where to look, fidgeting uncomfortably and wringing his hands. He was going to die here, he knew it. And probably a slow painful death, if the expression on Arthur's face was anything to go by.

"Stop fidgeting," the blond said, after a period of long strained silence. "It's annoying."

Merlin scowled but said nothing, his anxiousness only intensifying.

"Seriously," Arthur snapped, "Stop it!"

"I'm not doing anything!" Merlin retorted, unable to help himself, flinging up his arms in distress. He was only standing still, for god's sake!

"You're hovering," Arthur replied, his lip curling into an ugly sneer - that still looked annoyingly attractive. He'd now thrown his magazine onto the bed beside him and was crossing his arms, eyeing Merlin as though he was something very unpleasant indeed.

"Oh sorry," the dark-haired man squawked, although he'd meant for it to sound sarcastic. "I'm sorry for breathing!"

Arthur raised an eyebrow and smirked, tossing a piece of blond hair out of his eye. "You will be sorry for breathing soon enough - you're going to be eaten alive in here."

Merlin tried to ignore the fact that the blond looked positively delighted by the prospect, his heart doing somersaults in his chest.

"Look, you don't have to be such a prat," he cried, curling his fists, his defensive instinct seemingly overtaking his general common sense. "I haven't done anything!"

For one brief moment, Arthur's mouth opened slightly in surprise, before he quickly snapped it shut, expression morphing into one of twisted amusement. He climbed to his feet and approached slowly, as though knowing it would frighten Merlin further, and looked the other man directly in the eye. Although his movements were somewhat predatory, his eyes were gleaming and his lips curling, contorting his features into something that should have been unattactive, but was _still_ sort of sexy - _and_ terrifying.

He really was a very good-looking man, Merlin realised.

"Did you just call me a prat?" he asked softly, looking up from under his eyelashes.

If he hadn't of been so scared, Merlin might have found the action seductive, but his heart was pounding nevertheless. He could do nothing but give a sheepish nod, wondering vaguely if Arthur was going to punch him.

But the blond did nothing, only continuing to watch him with a strange sort of amusement, as though Merlin was some sort of circus freak that had appeared for his entertainment.

When he spoke a moment later, however, his voice was low and dangerous, causing Merlin to jerk backwards slightly, and hold his breath in anticipation. "Don't do it again," he breathed, eyes dancing, "Or I'm going to have to hurt you. And I don't want to do that, 'cause I really wanted to give the other's the satisfaction of destroying you."

Merlin let out a breath, his heart lodged painfully in his throat, unable to voice any sort of coherent reply.

He was sure Arthur was referring to the rest of the prisoners when he said 'others', although he couldn't be sure. Which wasn't exactly a comforting thought. The blond was right: he was going to be eaten alive.

"We clear?" Arthur asked cheerfully, flashing a very toothy grin.

Merlin blinked, frozen in shock, fear and horror, and made a faint gurgling noise.

"This is the part where you agree," the blond prompted.

And surprisingly, Merlin found himself doing just that. Giving his head a jerky nod, he staggered to the bunk bed - wishing to put as much distance between himself and Arthur as possible - and climbed to the top on shaky legs, all but collapsing as soon as he reached it.

He heard Arthur give a satisfied chuckle and winced, burying his head under the small stiff pillow and preying to the high heavens that it was all just some very warped, very scary, dream.

His mind was a jumble of thoughts and feelings, his roommate's words echoing painfully through his head. He was looking forward the next day even less than before, if that was possible, positively dreading having to face the rest of the prisoners, who would no doubt be just as nasty as his roommate.

And try as he might, he could not shake the image Arthur's smirking face from his mind.

He stayed awake for hours, churning the day's events over in his mind, vaguely hearing his roommate preparing himself for bed. Eventually all went quiet and he began to drift himself, settling down into a very uneasy sleep.

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><p>The next morning he dragged himself out of bed at first light with very great reluctance.<p>

Although his bed was cramped and uncomfortable, it was undoubtedly better than what waited for him on the outside, a thought that only succeeded in depressing Merlin further.

But realising he had little other choice, he detangled himself from his blankets and let out a breathy yawn. Having never undressed the night before he simply straightened his shirt and ran a hand through his hair, slowly descending the ladder of the bunk bed.

Arthur, he discovered, was still asleep, the morning sun filtering in through the window and shining off his hair. He looked peaceful and unthreatening, so much so, Merlin momentarily wondered why he had been so afraid the day before. Maybe it was just a really big misunderstanding?

That was until Arthur's eyes opened with a snap, and he fixed Merlin with a very impressive early-morning glare.

"Are you watching me sleep?" he croaked, expression incredulous, as though he just couldn't quite believe the dark-haired man's nerve.

"No!" Merlin retorted defensively, widening his eyes in what he hoped was a look of supreme innocence.

Arthur didn't look mad though, only confused, sitting up in bed and ruffling his hair. He was obviously quite delirious in the morning, and completely unable to deliver any kind of threats, something that Merlin found endearing, despite himself. Arthur looked sort of cute all messy and disorientated.

Until he spoke, that is.

"Stop perving, you idiot!" the blond snapped, after Merlin had continued staring for a number of minutes. "I'm tired, not blind!"

Merlin spluttered and hastily turned away, cursing his over-active hormones and wishing to dissolve through the floor. For all he knew he could be admiring a murderer - one who had already threatened him the night before. It was a thought that made him feel slightly nauseous, and even more uncomfortable.

Shaking his head and making a quick exit through the now open door, he made his way down the stairs, to the canteen, and joined the end of the breakfast queue, feeling decidedly more jittery than he had before.

He stood holding his tray stiffly, avoiding the eyes of the curious stares that followed him, obviously having realised he was the new prisoner. He kept his gaze firmly on the ground, attempting to block out everything and everyone around him, hoping that if he ignored them, they would ignore him.

Or at least he had been, until someone spoke directly into his ear.

"Alright?" asked the voice cheerily, causing Merlin to reel in surprise, and almost hit the man in the face with his flailing arms. He hadn't even noticed the man's approach.

"I'm Will," the stranger exclaimed, giving Merlin an easy grin that seemed strangely _friendly_. He was short but slender, with messy brown hair, and he was eyeing Merlin with obvious interest.

"I'm Merlin," he replied, responding to the warmth and friendliness of the man's introduction, despite his better judgement.

"You're the newbie, huh?" Will asked, as they moved further up the breakfast queue.

"Yeah."

"Don't need to look so terrified mate, I'm just asking a question," Will smiled, evidently sensing Merlin's wariness - not that he was being terribly good at disguising it.

He sighed, giving the seemingly kind stranger an apologetic shrug, and offered, "Sorry, it's just the introductions so far haven't been particularly pleasant."

"Yeah, you get that a lot here," Will agreed, in an understanding sort of tone. He approached the breakfast bar and began spooning lumpy porridge onto his tray, looking at the newbie through the corner of his eye, as though subtly trying to assess him.

Merlin followed suit, and made an brief attempt to disguise his disgust as the concoction got stuck to his spoon.

"So, who you rooming with?" the dark-haired stranger asked a second later, taking a stab at conversation as they moved away from the bar.

"Someone called Arthur," Merlin replied, following the lead of the other man ushering him towards a table in the cafeteria, figuring staying with a familiar face was somewhat safer than his other options. He really didn't want to go and sit with the men with tattoos, piercings, and more muscle than he thought was physically possible.

"Arthur Pendragon?" Will gaped, frowning as they took their seats.

"Yeah…" Merlin prompted, growing increasingly terrified by the look on his fellow prisoner's face. If Arthur did turn out to be a murderer, he was going to kill himself now, and prevent the blond from having the satisfaction of doing it for him.

"Dude, unlucky," his new friend commented, spooning large portions of porridge into his mouth. "Arthur's a bit of a loose canon."

"What do you mean?" Merlin asked fearfully, throat so dry he was unable to swallow his breakfast. He had a horrible feeling he wasn't going to like the answer.

"He's just the big man 'round campus, as it were," Will said through a mouthful of food, giving a small shrug.

Merlin groaned. He'd called the most powerful prisoner in the whole jail a prat. He was so, so dead.

"That's just great," he moaned, running a hand through his hair and attempting not to make a bolt for the door. It wasn't like the guards were simply going to _let him go_.

"Don't sweat it man," Will remarked, in a tone probably intended to be comforting. He waved a casual hand. "He won't bother you if you don't bother him." He swallowed loudly, mouth open, before adding, "So, what you in for?"

"Fraud," Merlin replied automatically, mind still focused on the details of his own tragic murder. "Wasn't me though."

Will laughed, like he'd heard the words a million times before. "Sure it wasn't."

The dark-haired man scowled in response, but realising it pointless to argue, he merely eyed his new friend critically. "What about you?"

"Vandalism, theft, indecent exposure, drunk and disorderly behaviour…" Will listed, puffing out his chest and giving Merlin a cheeky grin. He looked quite proud of his crimes, face happy and relaxed as he ate. It made Merlin feel unexplainably jealous.

They ate in companionable silence for a number of minutes, both happy to just sit and eat, when a bustling new crowd entered the cafeteria, and utterly destroying the atsmosphere.

At its centre was Arthur himself, looking sombre and moody, despite the joking atmosphere of the people surrounding him. It looked almost like a gang, and Merlin realised with a sinking heart that it probably was, with Arthur as it's leader.

The group descended on a table in the far corner, all fluttering around the blond anxiously, as though fearing his wrath. It was strange to behold, because Arthur looked so pretty and lithe in comparison to his companions, the majority of which were heavy and bald. Most had tattoos curling up thier arms, and were older, with multiple piercings and sunken eyes.

"What's Arthur in for?" Merlin asked Will, unsure of whether he wanted to know the answer, but unable to stop himself.

"In for GBH, I heard," his new friend replied, looking over at Arthur's table with a dismissive glance. "Nobody's really sure though. But he's been here a while. Since he was 18, and he's 21 now."

"How come everyone is doing as he says?" Merlin wondered, watching in fascination as Arthur waved a large bald man out of his seat. The man's jaw flexed dangerously, but he moved, allowing the blond spread himself casually across the bench. "He doesn't seem as threatening as some of the others."

"He's stronger than he looks," Will remarked. "And he's the best fighter here. People say he could kill a person with one finger, although I'm not sure how true that is."

Merlin let out a choked moan.

"Besides everyone in this prison wants a bit of Arthur," Will said with a ferocious grin. "He's a good looking guy. Most have got him too."

"He's gay?" Merlin asked in surprise, eyes flickering to the muscled blond. He knew that he shouldn't make generalisations, but Arthur looked really, well, _straight_. Like a high-school jock that was amazing at every sport, and had a million hot girlfriends - probably cheerleaders.

Will shrugged, and took a large bite out of his bread. "Don't know. Might just be for convenience, as there are no women here. That's what it is for most of the men."

"Oh," Merlin replied, feeling a little bit thrown. The fact that Arthur apparently slept around and wasn't even gay boggled his mind slightly. "So he fucks everyone, even though he's straight?"

"I didn't say that. He doesn't fuck many people, or get fucked at all, as far as I'm aware," Will mused, as though they were talking about the weather. He downed his milk noisily and looked contemplative, eyes flicking swiftly in Arthur's direction. "It's mostly hand jobs and blowjobs, I think."

Merlin, who was half-way through his own milk, choked, fixing his new friend with a disbelieving expression.

Will laughed and patted him on the arm, as though he was a timid animal about to be eaten. "Oh, don't be such a prude. You're not going to survive very long in here otherwise."

Merlin flushed and gave a small shrug, eyes finding Arthur once more. The blond was conversing with a slender, dark-haired man in hushed whispers, faces angled towards each other and shoulders touching. Arthur was smirking slightly, lips curved at one corner and eyes gleaming.

Will - obviously following his gaze - kicked his leg under the table, and effectively jolted him out of his reverie. "You don't want to get caught staring mate, Arthur will rip you apart," he warned, giving Merlin a blinding smile.

"Who's that man he's talking to?" Merlin asked, unable to stop himself. Arthur and the dark-haired man looked cosy, and Merlin would be lying if he said that he wasn't a little bit envious. He'd give anything to have the undivided attention (and not the violent kind) of someone so beautiful; they looked like the people from the movies, stunning and annoyingly untouchable.

"Oh, that's Lancelot," Will replied, turning his apple over in his hands. "Probably the closest thing Arthur has to a friend in here. Everyone else just hangs around him 'cause he's powerful. Not Lancelot though. They're fuck-buddies apparently - the only person in here who's had a repeat performance with Arthur, if you catch my drift."

Merlin blinked, feeling even more deflated despite himself. "Oh."

Will studied him for a second before shaking his head, throwing him an amused grin. "God, I know that look. Don't go getting attracted to Arthur, mate." Before Merlin could splutter his protest, Will continued with a sarcastic roll of his eyes, looking up at the heavens. "Trust me when I say, he's not worth it. He may be pretty to look at, but get on the wrong side of him and you're as good as dead."

The words hit Merlin like a blow to his chest and he nodded, shaking off the sick feeling in his gut. He knew Will was right. He was far out of his depth as far as Arthur was concerned, and he knew it. Attractive though Arthur was, in addition to being a complete and utter prat, he apparently had very violent tendencies - a quality Merlin did not usually look for in potential partners.

"Don't worry, I wouldn't touch such a asshat with a ten foot barge pole," he said eventually, giving Will a smile. He shook his head, attempting to lighten the mood, and asked, "So, have you ever got to get frisky with Arthur?"

"Frisky?" Will laughed. "You're so lucky you have me, seriously."

Merlin raised his eyebrows, prompting him slightly.

"Yes, I have," Will admitted, with a roll of his eyes. "Got to give him a hand job. He's got a gorgeous body, you'll see for yourself in the showers. I dreamt about it for weeks after, but that's all that ever happened. As I said, you only get one chance with Arthur. Unless you're Lancelot, that is."

Merlin let out a choked laugh, which he wished didn't sound so strained, but said nothing, eyes downcast.

"Not worth it mate," Will repeated, obviously sensing Merlin's mood. He gave his hand a small squeeze and returned to his lunch, happily munching away as Merlin brooded opposite him.

It was going to be a very long day.

TBC...

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><p><em><strong>AN Takes hours to write and only minutes to review, so please R&R! :)**_


	2. A Battle of Wills

**Pairing(s)**: Merlin/Arthur

**Genre**: Modern AU, Prison AU, Drama, Romance, Humour

**Warnings**: SLASH, sex, language

**Summary**: Merlin Emrys is dead. No, really. He just called the most powerful prisoner in jail a prat. A prat who just happens to be cellmates with. Cue fireworks.

**_A/N Thanks so much to everyone who reviewed the first chapter, I hope you enjoy this one! The story is already completely written, so I should be quite frequent with updates, but I do need to check/edit the chapters before I upload, and it takes longer than I first thought. And in reply to Annabelle Leigh, there is a reason I haven't revealed Merlin's crime yet (at least completely) because it will be a big part of the story later :)_**

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><p><strong><span>Cellmate<span>**

**A Battle of Wills (2/14)**

"So, what happens now?" Merlin asked, devouring the last of his porridge and hovering awkwardly, as Will climbed to his feet.

As someone who had never been to jail before - not even to _visit _- Merlin was at a loss over what to do and where he was supposed to be. He dimly recalled Morgana reciting his schedule to him the day before, but he'd been too busy having a mental breakdown to really take note. He was very much relying on Will to be a kind, decent person and tell him where the hell he had to go.

"We shower," Will replied, gesturing for his new friend to follow, whether out of pity or genuine kindness, Merlin wasn't sure.

"Together?" he croaked, eyes widening.

Will laughed but said nothing, evidently deciding that Merlin's question was not worthy of an actual reply.

They weaved around the cafeteria's tables and through the throng of prisoners, heading towards what Merlin supposed was the prisoners bathroom.

Arthur, who still sat closely to Lancelot, followed Merlin's movements as he passed. He wore the same calculating expression as the night before, as though he was not sure what to make of his new fumbling cellmate - his gaze sharp and unblinking.

"Arthur's staring at you," Will realised, giving Merlin a subtle elbow to the ribs as they walked.

"I know," he hissed back, determinedly looking away from Arthur's suspicious gaze. He didn't know whether the blond would actually hurt him for staring too long, but it was a theory he really didn't want to test out. It was best to just avoid the man's stare altogether.

"Blimey, he doesn't look happy," his friend remarked, raising his eyebrows.

Merlin groaned. "Does he ever?"

"What did you do to him?"

"What?" Merlin cried, slightly affronted, because did Will honestly think he was capable of something untoward? Especially to Arthur. He had _some_ common sense, dammit. He didn't go around _trying_ to make potential murderers mad at him. "I didn't do anything!"

"Really?" Will asked, looking surprised. He led the both of them down a corridor off the side of the kitchen, where the guards parted to allow them access. "It's just…to be fair to Arthur, he doesn't usually start things with people. He only gets nasty if people threaten him first."

Merlin was quite disgruntled to hear this, as the blond had been more than willing to pick a fight with _him_ the night before. Maybe he was just unintentionally irritating person. Or maybe Arthur just sensed weakness, and had simply went straight in for the kill.

"Don't worry," Will continued, in a rather blase tone,"It'll blow over soon." He shrugged his shoulders, unapparently not all that concerned for Merlin's welfare, and added, "You'll shag, your frustrations will be released, and then you'll get along just fine."

Merlin let out a very undignified squawk that echoed down the corridors, and turned to his friend with wide, round eyes. _What_? Just _what_? Did Will have some sort of mental affliction? That didn't even make any sense!

"Why will we shag?" Merlin cried, surprising himself with how high pitched his voice sounded.

Will rolled his eyes, giving a jaunty wave to a fellow prisoner walking in the opposite direction, and replied, as though it was obvious, "Arthur always shags the newbies." He gave Merlin what was probably supposed to be a comforting pat on the back. "Otherwise he'd run out of meat."

Unable to do anything but mouth wordlessly, Merlin was supremely glad they'd reached the showers, where a small group of prisoners were waiting outside. They watched Will and Merlin's approach with curious eyes, faces sneering as they surveyed the new arrivals.

"I'm - not…will not…shag Arthur," Merlin breathed, knowing that his face and neck - and probably even his ears - were flaming with embarrassment.

"Course you will," Will said cheerfully, joining the queue outside the bathroom. "Everyone does."

"Will not," Merlin insisted, realising that he sounded like a stubborn child but unable to stop himself. The whole idea was nothing but preposterous. Despite Arthur's attractiveness, Merlin would never allow himself to get involved with someone who was - for all intents and purposes - a criminal. He highly doubted that Arthur was in prison for a simple misunderstanding (like himself), and as long as that remained the case, Merlin could never see anything happening with them - even if Arthur wanted something to. Which of course, _he didn't_.

Will was probably just exaggerating.

"Arthur can be very persuasive," his new friend continued, evidently oblivious to the other's panic.

Merlin could agree with that, at least. If Arthur was interested in him - which he _wasn't!_ - he very much doubted that Arthur's methods of persuasion/seduction involved candle-lit dinners and a soapy bubble baths. They were more likely to include death threats and physical injury, a thought that made Merlin's heart stutter slightly in fear. He really hoped that wouldn't be the case, but what if Will _was_ right? What if Arthur wanted to sample the new 'meat'?

He groaned, and looked to his friend for support. "So, what do I do?" he croaked, just in case the situation did ever arise. It was always best to be prepared, after all.

"What do mean?" Will questioned, shrugging his shoulders and giving Merlin a look, as though he thought he was a little bit simple. "You give him a hand job and get it over with."

Merlin's mouth dropped open. They were not the sympathetic words of advice he had been expecting.

"Oh, don't look so horrified - it's not that bad," Will grinned, evidently amused by Merlin's internal flailing. "It _can_ be a pleasure, in fact. Arthur's a good-looking guy."

Trying not to think too much about the meaning behind Will's words, Merlin merely threw him a filthy look, just as the prisoners began to file into the showers. The queue was long now, stretching out behind them, and Merlin suddenly found himself feeling even more terrified and on edge than before. Surely Will had been joking when he said they showered together? That was honestly the last thing he needed.

"About the whole showering thing…." he began, eyes darting anxiously to the people crowding around them, taking in the muscled arms and the unfamiliar faces.

"Yeah?" Will prompted, eyebrows creasing in confusion.

Merlin flushed and wrung his hands, lowering his voice, and muttering, "You don't actually mean together, do you?"

"Um, yeah. Communal showers," Will explained.

Merlin's stomach dropped through the floor. Just when he thought he couldn't get anymore uncomfortable with prison life, he had to get wet and naked with a load of dangerous - and potentially sociopathic - strangers. He was vulnerable enough already, with his flailing limbs and his habit of being in the wrong place at the wrong time - he hardly needed stripping in front of a load of people he'd never met before to make him feel even more unnerved.

"I don't - I'm all pale and skinny," he spluttered, attempting to explain himself. "And you know, there are murderers around. They're going to take one look at me and realise they can crush me with their fingers."

Will raised his eyebrows, and gave Merlin a judgemental once over. "Well, pale and skinny is better than hairy and fat, like a few others I could mention," he replied. "Besides, they already know they can crush you with their fingers, Merlin - it's sort of obvious. Being naked isn't going to make a difference."

Merlin could do nothing but make a small strangled sound, hardly comforted by his new friend's words. But before he could even contemplate escape, he was ushered forwards, jolted by the prisoners behind him. The guards filed them in, looking them up and down as they passed.

They arrived in a cloakroom area where clothes were scattered across various surfaces. Some prisoners were shuffling out of their trousers, while others were shuffling back into them, flushed and damp from their showers.

Thrown by the blatant nakedness of everyone in the room, Merlin stumbled backwards, dithering between staying rooted to the spot and scrambling towards the exit. Before he could do either, however, he collided with somebody behind him and jumped, face flushing an embarassing shade of purple.

"Sorry!" he cried, turning to the person behind and holding up his hands in a gesture of defense.

He needn't have bothered, however. The stranger was small and slender, with dark floppy hair shadowing bright, blue eyes. And despite Merlin's fumbling apology, he made no move to reply, his face remaining strangely smooth and impassive - although his eyes were shifting, dancing over each slope of Merlin's face.

"Sorry," Merlin repeated, in case the man hadn't heard.

Again the stranger said nothing, and continued regarding Merlin with his cool, piercing gaze.

Beginning to feel slightly uncomfortable under the scrutiny, Merlin twitched, desperately attempting to find something clever or intimidating to say. But his mind came up blank, as it usually did in times of importance, and so he mouthed uselessly instead, feeling his flush descend swiftly down his neck in mortification.

Before he could embarrass himself further, however, Will took pity and decided to intervene, grabbing his arm and leading him away, like Merlin was a small child misbehaving himself.

"You're a bit of a car crash, aren't you?" he remarked, shaking his head and tugging him into a corner - away from general people.

Merlin spluttered, slightly resenting the assumption, considering his new friend had only met him a couple of hours before. He could just be having a bad day! Which he most definitely was.

"Let's just shower, shall we?" Will continued, pulling off his shirt and shaking his head. "Preferably without incident."

Unable to do anything but comply, Merlin began undressing himself, eyes flickering uneasily to the prisoners around him. It was as though he could feel a their gazes burning his skin, but whenever he turned to check, he saw nothing.

"Towel," Will said, throwing him a small, white cloth.

He eyed it for a moment in utter distaste, before realizing that the towel would probably be the only thing standing between him and a load of big, burly, and naked men. Wrapping it tightly around his waist, he shimmied out of his trousers, causing Will to smirk slightly in amusement.

"Not funny," he hissed, pulling off his shirt and folding his arms across his chest.

"It really is," Will replied, already completely naked, and apparently ok with it. "You look so uncomfortable."

"Funny that," Merlin said sarcastically, gulping and turning his head away. But soon realising that everyone else in the room was naked as well, he shook his head in horror, and chose to glare determinedly at the floor. It was reminding him far too much of prison programs he used to watch on TV, the prospect of which was terrifying, considering it was people like him that always ended up as the prison bitch. He was far too sensitive for places like this.

"Do you want me to lead you into the shower?" Will asked, barely able to conceal the amusement in his voice. "Or do you think you can manage it?"

Merlin scowled and narrowed his eyes, irriated that Will was making him feel even more helpless than he felt already. He wasn't _that_ pathetic. _Almost_, but not quite.

In a sulking gesture of defiance, he turned and stalked towards the adjoining showers, throwing a "I'm just fine, thanks," to Will behind him.

He was hit by a blast of steam and winced, scrambling to the nearest showerhead. He could see the blurry figures of the prisoners around him, but nothing specific, to which he silently thanked God, because _honestly_, if he saw some of this men naked, it would be ingrained in his mind forever. He'd never be able to get it up again.

Turning the water on with a quick flick of his wrist, he gave the area a swift surveying glance, checking nobody was in the nearby vicinity. Once he was sure the coast was clear, he removed his towel with clumsy fingers, fumbling for an embarassingly long time with the material.

He dived under the steady stream of water and washed his hair as quickly as posssible, eager for the experience to be over. He felt exposed - which of course he was - paranoid, and flustered, as though he expected someone to come up behind him, their hands too close and too friendly, or even worse, _threatening_. He'd seen prison movies - he knew what went down!

It was only when he had almost finished rinsing his hair that Will caught up with him, claiming the shower directly next to his own.

"Seriously, go faster," Will laughed, lolling his head under the water lazily, almost mocking.

Merlin flushed but did not answer, unable to look his friend in the eye. He gave an uneasy glance to the shower on his other side, which was now occupied by a tall muscled prisoner, washing his back with shower gel.

Growing steadily red with embarrassment, Merlin turned away, but not before spotting a small dark tattoo on the man's left shoulder. It was black and made up of three separate swirls, entwined in the centre.

Eyebrows creased in confusion, Merlin thought back to the cloakroom, where he could of sworn he saw the same tattoo on at least two other men, undressing for their showers. (Not that he'd been perving or anything, but there hadn't been anywhere else to look!) He had barely registered it, thinking it little more than coincidence, but now he was curious. Why would three different men have the same tattoo?

He leaned slightly towards Will, and asked through the corner of his mouth, "What are they?" His eyes flicked discretely to the black ink marked on the stranger's body. "Those tattoos?"

Will followed his gaze, shaking water out of his dripping hair, and squinted in a way that was embarassingly tactless. "Oh. That's the mark of the druids," he explained, clicking his tongue and turning away again.

"What are druids?" Merlin asked, eyes wide, unable to mask his confusion. He had a funny feeling that it was something he should know.

"A gang."

"A gang?" Merlin repeated, his voice rising an octave. His mind immediately flashed to The Godfather, and although he hadn't seen the movie in a very long time, he was fairly sure that an awful lot of people got their brains blown out. "Like the mafia?"

"I suppose," Will replied, shrugging his shoulders and rinsing his hair under the water, like he was having a nice day out at the beach, and not in fact showering with a load of gang members.

Merlin blinked, thrown by his friend's casualness, and cast a frightened eye around the room. Just the thought of sharing a shower with members of a murderous gang made him feel slightly ill. He moved closer to Will in his unease, unable to help himself, and almost submerged his head under his friend's shower, rather than his own.

Catching onto his discomfort, Will made an exasperated tutting noise in Merlin's ear, causing him to realise just how close they'd become. He jumped back, blushing furiously, and attempted not to look at Will's naked body, something that would manage to make them both even more uncomfortable.

But his companion merely laughed good-naturedly, rolling his eyes. "What exactly were you expecting when you came here, Merlin?" he asked, looking completely bemused. "Of course there are gangs. Nobody ended up here by being good, upstanding members of society."

"I know," Merlin replied faintly, eyes darting around the room in horror. "But it's hard actually having it confirmed. Like just realising that the nightmare is real."

Will shrugged, and said, "Hate to say it, but you're going to have to get used to it."

Merlin nodded vigorously, turning off his shower and grabbing his towel. He was feeling trapped, caustrophobic, and panicked, like the walls were closing in on him, and he couldn't escape. He inhaled a lungful of air, attempting to regain control of himself, and almost choked on the steam, his eyes watering. Giving Will a hasty goodbye, he bolted from the room, and practically dived into the cloakroom - letting out a gasp of relief at the cool, fresh air.

But his happiness lasted for only a moment, because in his haste he collided with somebody heading in the other direction, their body hard and unmoving, causing Merlin to stumble backwards in surprise. He might as well have run into a brick wall.

"Sorry," he squeaked instinctively, before his blurry vision focused on a very blond head.

"Why am I not surprised?" Arthur muttered, looking more amused than angry. He cocked an eyebrow and gave wet half-naked Merlin an appraising glance, lips curling. "It's you."

"Yep, I'm me," Merlin stuttered, eyes having found the broad expanse of Arthur's naked chest. It was muscled and faintly tanned, soft blond hair forming a 'V' towards the small white towel wrapped around his waist. His skin was smooth and unblemished, something Merlin was pleased to note, as there was no druid tattoo in sight. He suddenly felt very relieved.

"When you've stopped staring, do you want to move?" the blond said a moment later, snapping Merlin out of his reverie.

"Urm…" he began, brain attempting to process Arthur's words. "Yes."

They both stood staring at each other in silence for at least a minute, with Arthur's eyebrows travelling steadily up his forehead.

"Well, move then!" he finally snapped, expression incredulous, like he could barely believe Merlin's nerve.

"Oh!" Merlin cried, blinking rapidly. "Of course. Sorry!"

Blushing furiously, he shuffled to the side, and allowed Arthur to move past him. The blond gave him a disgusted look, bumping his shoulder into Merlin's side as he passed and causing him to stumble backwards with the force of it.

"Hey!" he yelped, trying to regain his balance. He turned to glare at Arthur's retreating head and scowled, wishing he couldn't feel tingles where the blond had touched him.

Shaking his head and letting out a sigh, he darted back towards his clothes, relieved to be pulling them back on. Feeling a great deal less exposed and helpless, he fled the cloakroom, silently dreading what else the day had to hold.

* * *

><p>After the showers, prisoners were required to do various jobs, which usually earned them a certain amount of money. Although the pay wasn't great, Merlin was happy to have something to do and completed the jobs willingly, following Will to his activities throughout the day, grateful for the distraction.<p>

Although the jobs were mostly tedious, Will's company made the work somewhat bearable, keeping him entertained for the majority of the their time there. Merlin was happy to be bonding with someone, and he liked Will - who was funny, and bright, and maybe a little bit crazy. He told Merlin stories of his numerous crimes with great enthusiasm, some slightly worrying and others downright ridiculous, seemingly appreciative of his new captive audience.

"I think my favourite has to be my Bookie's theft," Will said during workshop, waving around a rather sharp looking hacksaw with worrying flourish. "I didn't really think the whole thing through."

"What do you mean?" Merlin asked, attempting to hammer a nail into a wooden block and almost whacking his finger off; he'd kind of been hoping that he'd have some miraculous workshop skills that had materialised overnight, but it appeared he was just as hopeless as he'd always been. He was more of a book person - he'd never been one for manual labour.

"Well, I was running a bit late and all the money had already gone," Will explained, giving his own wooden block a rather violent whack. "They only had bags of coins left."

Merlin snorted, body shaking, unable to hold back his laughter. He knew that he probably shouldn't antagonise his only friend - especially one who happened to be wielding a hacksaw - but he just couldn't stop himself. The mental image of Will carrying bags of coins out of a Bookies was enough to send him into peels of laughter.

"It's not funny!" Will cried, although he sounded amused rather than insulted. "I still got arrested for holding someone at gunpoint, even though I didn't manage to steal any actual money."

Merlin's laughter died in his throat. He choked slightly, face falling, and yelped, "You held people at gunpoint?"

"Not with a real gun," Will laughed, rolling his eyes and giving his shoulders a careless shrug. "But apparently threatening people - even with a water-pistol - is still highly frowned upon."

Suddenly feeling achingly relieved, Merlin raised his eyebrows, and said sarcastically, "I wonder why?"

His companion beamed. "Blimey, you must be adjusting to prison life. You're starting to get cheeky with me."

Merlin smiled, but realized Will's words rang true. He already felt relaxed in the company of his new friend, which considering the unfamiliarity of prison life in general, was quite an achievement. It made him glad that Will had initially approached him.

He only wished that his other relationships were developing just as well - his relationship with his cellmate in particular. Things between he and Arthur were still awkward and strained, and after Will's previous words, he found himself terrified at the prospect of being alone with him.

And so after returning to his room after the workshop, he hovered awkwardly outside his own cell door, embarrassingly nervous about entering. He hadn't seen Arthur since the showers early in the morning - something which he was incredibly grateful for - but Will's earlier revelation was still ringing in his ears, loud and insistent. What if Arthur _did_ want to have his wicked way with him? Could he even say no? He didn't think the blond would take kindly to being refused, and honestly, it was a theory Merlin did really _not_ want to test out.

Maybe if he just got it over with - on his own terms - and then he wouldn't have to worry anymore. Not about Arthur, at least. He could move on and forget the whole thing had even happened.

With that thought in mind, he took a deep breath to steel himself, and entered the shared cell, just in time to see Arthur buttoning up his shirt.

Merlin gulped in a lungful of air and breezed past him, moving towards their bunk-bed, the shameless nakedness still unnerving to him. He determinedly didn't look at the thin strip of Arthur's chest, sculpted and dusted with faint blond hair.

"Hi," he muttered, climbing the ladder, and attempting to sound casual.

Arthur raised an eyebrow and turned to regard him with a searching look. "Hello," he replied warily, as though trying to figure out why Merlin was being so nice to him.

Blushing under the intensity of the other man's gaze, Merlin waited - his chest beating frantically in his chest - tracking Arthur's every move, and searching for the slightest sign of a come on. So he could flee the room or..._something_. He didn't even know.

But the blond did nothing, merely assessing his cellmate for a moment longer before climbing into his own bed and disappearing under the covers.

Merlin blinked, thrown by the blatant dismissal, and complete disinterest. It's not like he _wanted_ something to happen between them, because Arthur could still be a murderer after all, but he was starting to feel a little bit baffled. Arthur was supposed to be interested in _everyone_ (well, according to Will), and yet he'd never looked at Merlin with any sign of lust or interest - just confusion. The dark-haired man wasn't sure whether to be relieved or offended, but considering Arthur had slept with every other person in the prison, he was beginning to wonder what was wrong with him.

Did Arthur often ignore his conquests for the first few days, determined to lure them into a false sense of security? Or was he just enjoying watching Merlin squirm?

Collapsing down on his own bed and staring at the ceiling, Merlin contemplated the last twenty-four hours with growing distain. It could have been worse, he supposed - he was still alive, after all - but it also could have been so much better.

He tossed and turned, unable to settle, the events of the day swirling through his mind. He was just hoping that prison life would gradually improve.

* * *

><p>"So," Will began the next morning, flicking raisins out of his cereal. "What happened last night?"<p>

"What do you mean?" Merlin asked, although he already had a sneaking suspicion where the conversation was going.

"With Arthur…" Will prompted, raising an eyebrow and smirking slightly. He dropped his spoon and used his hand to make an obscene gesture, one that Merlin guessed was supposed to signal a hand job.

Trying to appear indifferent, Merlin sighed, and eyed Will's hand with distain. "Nothing happened," he replied, fighting to keep his voice deadpan. "He's not interested."

"Arthur's always interested," Will insisted, causing Merlin's heart to sink, despite himself. Arthur had shown _him_ nothing but confusion and contempt. Why could that be? "But he's not very predictable. He'll strike when you least expect it."

Merlin's eyes widened and he choked, suddenly having lost his appetite.

He left breakfast and headed to work with Will's words still churning in his mind. The whole situation made him feel very uneasy, like Arthur was waiting - _plotting_ - for the perfect time to strike. It made no sense, even to Merlin, but the feeling was there, against all logic and common sense. He knew he was getting paranoid, and that realistically Arthur probably had much better things to do with his time than mess around with Merlin's head, but he couldn't help it. Try as he might, he just could not shake off the feeling his was about to be attacked, even during workshop, where he gripped his tools so hard his knuckles had turned a painful white. He just figured that if he was ambushed, at least he would have a suitable weapon (a Cold Chisel) to beat the blond off with.

He spent the whole day in the same constant worry, on increasingly high alert, as though waiting for Arthur to jump out from behind a wall. He knew his behaviour was ridiculous, bordering on insane, but he could not stop Will's voice ringing repeatedly through his mind.

He was growing so paranoid he was beginning to imagine people following him, especially after he happened to run into one very blue-eyed man twice in three hours. He kept looking over his shoulder, eying everyone that passed him, and jumping a mile at the slightest sound.

Merlin blamed Will. If he had just kept his gob shut, Merlin would still be living in complete ignorance, happy (well, as happy as he could get in this place) and oblivious.

Despite his reluctance, however, a rather large part of him just wanted to get the whole thing over with - just not on Arthur's terms. If it was going to happen, if he had no other choice, then he wanted to have _some_ semblance of control. He wanted to be ready, and he didn't want the blond to catch him off guard.

As the day went on, Merlin turned similar thoughts around in his head, gradually working himself into a panic. By the time he returned to their cell in the evening, he was rather close to storming straight in and blurting everything out, regardless of what would no doubt be very painful consequences.

But instead, he chose to stroll in calmly, attempting to disguise his inner turmoil behind a cool and collected exterior.

Whether he succeeded or not was to be debated, as the blond gave him a suspicious glance upon his entrance, but said nothing.

Merlin hesitated by the edge of the bed, eager to break the increasingly uncomfortable silence, and said, "So…"

Arthur turned to look at him expectantly, eyebrow raised, evidently waiting for him to continue.

"How are you?" he blurted after a pause, unable to think of anything remotely more intelligent to say.

The blond blinked, crossing his arms and cocking his head to the side. Golden hair flopped forwards and shadowed his eyes, preventing Merlin from reading anything in the other man's expression.

"What's_ wrong _with you?" Arthur asked sharply, giving his shoulders a helpless shrug. "Are you trying to wind me up?"

"No!" Merlin cried, eyes round with surprise. Why on earth would he try to _wind Arthur up_? He didn't have a death wish. "I'm just being nice!"

The blond only continued to look more baffled, giving his head a small shake. "Why?"

"Because I'm actually a nice person!" Merlin exclaimed, growing increasingly frustrated. Was it so hard to believe that he was actually a decent human being? Did they not exist in prison? He guessed not.

"You're an irritating and idiotic person," Arthur countered, seemingly uncaring that he might be hurting Merlin's feelings. "Do you have no self-preservation skills _at all_?"

"Yes…" he replied, more instinctively than anything else, although he knew he sounded uncertain now.

"Not from what I've seen. I've only known you a couple of days, and not one minute has gone by without you annoying me," the blond complained, shifting from foot to foot, looking distinctly like he wanted to reach out his hands and wrap them round Merlin's neck. "Either you really are just completely stupid, or you're doing it deliberately."

Merlin gaped, unable to do anything in his own defence except mouth wordlessly. He wasn't doing anything deliberately, and he certainly wasn't stupid! Well, _most_ of the time...

Arthur surveyed his gormless expression with interest, apparently unable to stop his lips curling into an amused smile. "Maybe it is because you're stupid, after all," he muttered, before turning away, back to his bed, and effectively closing the conversation.

Merlin eyes widened further at the insult, but his mind had gone completely blank in surprise.

He watched the blond complete his bedtime routine in a slight daze, stare glazed and unfocused. By the time the cells had shut down and the lights had turned off, he was still sat in the same position, mind attempting to process Arthur's final words.

* * *

><p>The next morning Merlin's mood had not improved, even as he spoke to Will and tried to explain the events of the night before.<p>

"He thought you were being stupid on purpose?" his friend laughed, spraying food over the table as he talked.

"Yes!" Merlin cried, throwing a glare towards the blond, who was sat on the other side of the cafeteria, whispering with Lancelot. "And he called me an idiot."

"How horrible of him!" Will exclaimed, although he sounded nothing but amused. He turned to look in Arthur's direction as well, letting out a yelp once he realised the blond was staring straight back. "He's looking at us!"

"No doubt planning my murder," Merlin replied mournfully, stabbing at his plate.

"Or he's so overcome with lust he can't bare to look away from you!" Will waggled his eyebrows, and gave Merlin's shin a playful kick under the table.

"I hardly think so. He said there wasn't a minute I haven't annoyed him."

"Well, you say he's not interested, but he's spent most of breakfast looking at you!" Will cried, waving his bread in the air emphatically.

Merlin glanced over to the blond, who was indeed still staring, eyebrows creased and jaw clenched.

"Um, does that look like a look of lust to you?" Merlin asked, raising his eyebrows.

Will looked over and frowned, expression growing increasingly confused. He paused for a moment, as though weighing the words on his tongue, before he finally admitted, "No, I guess not."

"Exactly. He looks faintly disgusted," Merlin said miserably, swirling his porridge around his plate and glaring at the table in annoyance.

"Not disgusted. Irritated and confused."

"Yeah, 'cause that's so much better," he replied, glancing up at Arthur through his eyelashes and quickly turning away as the blond smirked in reply. Why did Arthur _always_ catch him when he looked? Did he have super ninja senses? Merlin would not be surprised if he did.

Will watched the exchange with a knowing smile, shaking his head tiredly, and said, "God, there is some serious mind-fuckery going on between you two."

"I don't want mind-fuckery," Merlin exclaimed, the strain of the last few days evidently taking its toll on his sanity. "I want proper fuckery!" Realising what he'd said, and hating himself for it, he then attempted to backtrack, throwing his hands up in the air. "No! No, I don't. I just meant - I want to get it over with! You know - so I can sleep easy again! I didn't mean - I don't_ like _him! He's probably a murderer!"

Will watched him flail for a minute, his face splitting into a grin, before he broke down into peels of laughter. "The sexual frustration is obviously driving you insane and it's only been a couple of days," he said.

"It's not sexual frustration," Merlin argued, face colouring so much it was practically purple. "This is all _your_ fault! It's you putting ideas in my head. All these comments about me and Arthur shagging has left me on edge - like he's going to attack me or something. I now keep waiting for him to make a move, but he's obviously not interested!"

"It _is_ strange," his friend remarked, but seemed to have nothing more to say on the subject. Arthur's behaviour seemed to have baffled him as well, something that Merlin didn't find particularly reassuring.

He shook his head and finished his breakfast, feeling even more confused than before, but realising that there was not much else he could do. He supposed he would just have to wait, and leave the next move up to Arthur.

TBC...

* * *

><p><strong><em>AN Yep, at the moment Merlin is a complete scared-y cat (and feeling pretty conflicted), but tbh, in his position, I'd be crapping my pants as well. He will get stonger as the fic goes on - in fact it will be a big part of it ;)<em>**

**_Takes hours to write and only minutes to review, so please R&R! :)_**


	3. An Uneasy Understanding

_**Disclaimer: **_I own nothing.

Warnings: SLASH, sexitimes, language

Pairings: Arthur/Merlin

_**A/N** Thanks so much for all the lovely reviews last chapter, I'm glad people are enjoying the story! This chapter is full of fail, because I haven't checked/edited properly, so sorry about that!_

_There are just some things I'd like to clear up, because a few people have asked me certain questions._

_**1#** There is no magic in this story. It's a completely normal modern!AU, so neither Merlin or Mordred possess any magical ability ;)_

_**2#** Someone asked what GBH was last chapter (what Arthur got charged with), and it didn't really occur to me that most people wouldn't know it. It stands for Grievous Bodily Harm, a type of assault by English law that means the victim suffers serious physical damage. The fic is set in England (because that's where I am, and the characters are supposed to be English) and so a lot of things like this might crop up in the future._

* * *

><p><strong><span>Cellmate<span>**

**An Uneasy Understanding (3/14)**

After what seemed like an endless first week in prison, Merlin felt as though he was in a weird sort of limbo, waiting for something - _anything_ - to happen.

His days always consisted of the same routine: he got up, had breakfast, had a shower, went to work, had lunch, went back to work, spent a couple of hours in the communal area (when Will insisted), had dinner and went to bed. Nothing had changed and every day seemed the same as the first, both uncomfortable and never-ending.

To make matters worse, his relationship with Arthur - if he could even call it that - had not progressed either. They remained unexplainably tense around each other, Merlin out of fear and Arthur seemingly out of suspicion. Evenings in their cell were strained and silent, Merlin not daring to start another conversation (in fear of his life), and Arthur determinedly ignoring him.

But despite the atmosphere, the cold calculating looks still remained - usually from across the cafeteria where Merlin could not protest. He merely sat stiff and unnerved, not looking in his cellmate's direction and pretending to be engrossed in his breakfast.

There was also the small matter of Arthur's _extra-curricular activities_, which drove Merlin absolutely insane. He wasn't necessarily _jealous_ of the blond having sex with other people - apart from the fact that Arthur was getting laid, and he wasn't - but he was growing increasingly offended. It seemed that everyone (with the possible exceptions of Merlin and the slightly creepy druid gang) had been sexually involved with Arthur over the course of his time there. Including a bald ex-bouncer, who appeared to be as tall as he was wide.

It did nothing for Merlin's self-esteem.

And even more annoyingly, he had to witness the aftermath of Arthur's many conquests first hand. It was one of the unfortunate aspects of being roommates with him. The blond would sometimes stumble back into the cell just before lockdown, hair mussed, cheeks flushed, shirt untucked and lips bruised, looking horribly pleased with himself. It was rude, disgusting, and absolutely _maddening_.

Merlin never said anything though, too afraid to break their uneasy truce, figuring he would just have to spend the next three years trying not to throw something very heavy at Arthur's big, blond head. He supposed it was a small sacrifice, in order to keep himself alive.

It was at the beginning of his second week, however, that things began to change.

It started with Arthur's sudden (and somewhat suspicious) absence, which effected Merlin far more than he ever cared to admit.

Having finished work on the Monday, Merlin entered the cafeteria and collapsed on his seat next to Will, fully expecting to be met with Arthur's usual glare. But instead of feeling the usual tingle of someone watching him, he felt nothing at all, causing him to swivel around in his chair and scan the room suspiciously.

Will raised his eyebrows at Merlin's sudden movement, and asked, as tactful as ever, "What the hell are you doing?"

Merlin ignored him, eyes finding Lancelot sat at Arthur's usual table, the seat beside him empty, with the blond nowhere in sight. That in itself was strange, as Arthur and Lancelot spent most of their time together - much to Merlin's growing annoyance.

"Where's Arthur?" he asked. He tried to appear unconcerned, his voice impressively level and calm, if he did say so himself, but it was too late - Will had already begun to grin knowingly, eyes gleaming in amusement. The smug look very much reminded Merlin of Arthur, who seemed to have perfected his own smirking and superior expressions.

"In isolation," his friend replied, voice deceptively innocent. "Why? Are you missing him?"

Merlin chose to not dignify Will's gleeful questions with a response, focusing instead on the reasons behind Arthur's absence. "Isolation?"

"Yeah," Will said, munching loudly. "Lockdown cells. Where he can't come out. Hence 'isolation'." He made quotation marks with his fingers.

Merlin's forehead creased in confusion, curious despite himself. "Why?" he croaked, hoping and praying it was for something insignificant - and not violent.

"Fighting with Mordred, apparently."

Merlin blinked, slightly thrown by the admission. Arthur was certainly rude and threatening, but from what he'd seen so far, he didn't tend to pick physical fights. Not even with Merlin, and the blond had all but admitted he found him to be the most irritating person he'd ever met.

"Who's Mordred?" he asked, curiosity piqued. Who on earth had managed to irritate Arthur enough to cause a physical fight? Whoever it was, he was obviously a far braver man than Merlin. Well, that or completely idiotic.

Will turned and surveyed the cafeteria, eyes finding a small group at the back, huddled in a circle, all sat silent and still. Merlin vaguely identified them as the druid gang, who all had the strange tattoos on their bodies that he had spotted in the showers.

"Him," Will said eventually, raising a hand and pointing towards a slender figure at the centre of the huddle.

Merlin squinted, shifting sideways in his seat, attempting to get a better look of the mysterious Mordred.

"Oh!" he cried, something tugging at his memory. "I've seen him before!"

Mordred was thin and lithe, dark floppy hair framing a fair round face. His eyes were an alarming shade of blue, positively gleaming, particularly noticeable against his smooth, pale face. Merlin recognized him from his first day, when he'd unceremoniously bumped into him in the showers.

"I walked into him," he said aloud, causing Will to raise his eyebrows.

"I know," his friend replied, evidently remembering the whole incident as well. "You're lucky he didn't annihilate you."

Merlin's eyes almost popped out of his head. "Was that likely?" he cried, throwing Modred an uncertain glance - feeling distinctly uneasy that he'd almost managed to get himself killed, without even knowing it.

"Took on Arthur, didn't he?" Will said, shrugging, "And he looks fine."

Merlin assessed Mordred again, noticing a faint purple shadow across the other man's cheek, just beginning to bruise. Other than that, however, he looked completely unscathed, something that caused Merlin to recoil in his seat and suppress a shudder - for this man had fought Arthur, and _won_? The thought seemed alien to him.

"Why isn't he in isolation as well?" he asked, shaking his head and frowning slightly. It didn't make sense that Arthur was in isolation for fighting and Modred was not.

"You know the guard called Morgana?" Will questioned, throwing Merlin completely, because how did she have anything to do with anything? "Pretty, with long curly hair?"

Merlin nodded, recalling the guard from his first day, tall and intimidating, striking in almost every way. She had been the one to escort him to his cell.

"Well, she favours Mordred," Will explained, shrugging his shoulders in a careless manner. "Nobody really knows why, but she keeps him out of trouble. No doubt said the fight was Arthur's fault and put him in isolation."

"But -" Merlin spluttered, eyes wide in shock, "That's not fair!"

Will gave a dry chuckle and flicked his gaze in Mordred's direction, his eyes dark and hooded. "Merlin, nothing about this place is fair."

Merlin could say nothing in return. He was quickly beginning to learn that that was very much the case.

* * *

><p>Arthur didn't return to the cell that night. Nor did he the next morning.<p>

Merlin, as much as he hated to admit it, was beginning to miss his cellmate's presence. Not because he particularly enjoyed Arthur's icy (not to mention intimidating) company, but because he'd been one of the only constant aspects of Merlin's prison life so far. The cell felt dark and cold without the blond there, and for the first time since his arrival, Merlin was truly alone. He didn't like the emptiness and the time he had with his thoughts. It caused him to remember things he tried hard to forget, and he often found himself wishing for Arthur's snide comments to distract him.

It was stifling in the darkness, to gaze up at the ceiling, and think of nothing but his past mistakes - what he did, what he could have done better, and how he might have changed things. It was something he had avoided before, choosing instead to panic over Arthur, which had been safer, less depressing, and generally more pleasant. But with the blond gone, there was nothing but him and regret, stewing and building, until he wanted to do nothing more than curl up in a ball and go home to his mother.

So when Arthur reappeared in the cell the next evening, after Merlin had spent the night gazing solumly into nothingness, he felt nothing but enormous relief, embarrassingly thankful for the distraction.

"Oh," the blond said as he entered, spotting Merlin sitting cross-legged on the floor, where he'd spent the last couple of hours brooding. "Here I was hoping you'd flushed yourself down the toilet in my absence."

"No such luck," the dark-haired man grinned, unable to restrain a grin - the sight of someone else in their small, dark cell flooding him with happiness. Arthur could consume his thoughts now, as he always did when he was in the nearby vicinity, and Merlin wouldn't have to worry about his past again.

Seemingly confused by the warm welcome, however, the blond narrowed his eyes, and replied with a simple, "Shame."

He moved to his bed and sat down slowly, wincing as his ribs screamed in protest, and clutched swiftly at his side.

"Are you okay?" Merlin asked immediately, getting to his feet and moving towards him - his usual hesitance squashed by the pained look on the other man's face.

"Fine!" Arthur hissed, smacking his cellmate's hand away as it reached for him, like an injured animal lashing out at anyone who dared approach it.

Merlin frowned, pausing at the slap but remaining unperturbed, surveying the blond thoroughly through squinting eyes. His face bore no signs of any fight, skin as smooth and flawless as ever - but just under the short sleeves of Arthur's shirt, Merlin could see purple bruises blossoming on his skin, some sharp and some spreading, causing him to flinch backwards in surprise.

Will had told him that Arthur was the best fighter in the prison, yet he appeared more injured than Mordred, who was small and slight by comparison. Was Mordred some sort of secret ninja?

"So…you were in a fight?" Merlin asked, unable to suppress his curiosity, despite his common sense screaming at him to remain silent.

Arthur's eyes flicked up to his face, expression pinched, seemingly too injured to deal with Merlin's pointless rambling. "Well, aren't you observant," he said sarcastically, turning his head away, as though hoping to end the conversation at that.

But Merlin merely ignored him. "With Mordred." He did not phrase his words as a question.

"Yes…" the blond replied, looking hesitant now, his voice lacking its previous bite.

"Did you lose?" Merlin asked, the words slipping from his mouth before he realised he'd made a very big mistake. Arthur's face grew stony - more so than it had been before - and a flush of anger coloured his cheeks.

"No!" he cried, looking quite offended. "The little fucker hit me with his hammer during workshop!"

There was a surprised pause, before Merlin spluttered out a laugh at the mental images, until seeing the rather dangerous glare Arthur was shooting him.

He quickly fell silent, and attempted to rearrange his face into something slightly more sympathetic. "Why did he hit you with a hammer?" he asked sensibly, wondering whether the blond would continue to answer him, or simply chose to silence him instead. Although injured, Merlin didn't doubt that the blond would still be able to crush _him_ without a whole lot of effort.

But to his surprise, Arthur replied, sounding incredibly nonchalant. "Because I punched him."

"You punched someone carrying a hammer?" Merlin yelped in his most incredulous voice, eyes widening. He wasn't quite sure who was more unhinged: Arthur, who attacked someone carrying a heavy weapon, or Modred, who decided to beat someone with it. His time in workshop was beginning to look positively boring by comparison.

The blond nodded, and said, "Stupid, wasn't it?"

Merlin didn't answer, feeling sure it was a rhetorical question.

"I should have used a weapon as well," Arthur continued, looking thoughtful and either not noticing - or simply ignoring - the aghast expression on Merlin's face.

"Of course," he replied faintly, moving away on instinct. Shaking his head, he paused for a moment, gathering his jumbled thoughts, before he tried to restore some normalcy to the conversation. "So…why did you punch him?"

Arthur's face clouded over and he stiffened, avoiding Merlin's gaze. "None of your business," he snapped, his voice warning that it would be very stupid to try and argue with him.

"Right," Merlin said, twiddling his thumbs self-consciously. Now that the conversation had dwindled, they were left in their normal strained silence, purposely looking away from each other. Merlin took in a deep breath, desperately wanting to return to the easy banter they had been exchanging minutes before, and offered, "You should go see someone about your injuries."

To Merlin's great surprise, Arthur laughed, the tension momentarily forgotten. The grin lit up his face and caused his eyes to crinkle at the corners, leaving Merlin slightly breathless at the sight. He was suddenly glad the blond rarely genuinely smiled, as he honestly didn't think he'd be able to handle it on a regular basis; it was shockingly disarming.

"Way ahead of you Merlin," his mocking voice replied, interrupting his cellmate's glazed staring. "I saw Gwen yesterday, and she said it's just bruising."

"Shame," Merlin choked, blinking rapidly and attempting to pull himself back together.

Arthur glared in response, but it was nowhere near as evil as usual. He got to his feet and moved past Merlin, pulling new clothes out of their small set of drawers.

Facing the wall, he pulled of his shirt, causing Merlin to inhale a lungful of air behind him. It wasn't the first time Merlin had seen Arthur naked from the waist up, having showered with him regularly, but it still left him gaping like an idiot. It really wasn't fair. Why were the good-looking ones always complete prats?

Attempting to distract himself from the rather tempting sight of Arthur's bare back (swollen with bruises), Merlin decided to question him again, feeling rather pleased that they'd just managed a somewhat successful conversation. A lot of things had been bothering him recently, and with the blond more vulnerable than he'd ever seen him, he knew now was the time to unload. He knew an opportunity when he saw one.

Fiddling with his sleeve, his took in a deep breath, preparing himself, before blurting, in a very high pitched voice, "Why haven't you punched me yet?"

The question sounded so rushed and out of the blue that Merlin mentally smacked himself, but after seeing what Arthur had done to Mordred, he felt it was important to know.

"Excuse me?" Arthur replied, turning back around to stare at him, now fully clothed.

Merlin wilted under the stare, but realising it was too late to back out, rambled, "You punched Mordred because for some reason, you don't like him. But you dislike me, and you haven't punched me."

"I've come close," the blond said, crossing his arms, and looking as though he very much wanted to hit him now.

"But you haven't…" Merlin dribbled off after a moment, wanting to press further, but fearing the reaction if he did. He didn't want to push his luck, but he _had_ to know. Why was Mordred different? And why wasn't Arthur silencing him already? He chose to ignore the shuttered the expression on his cellmate's face, and in a moment of brief courage, plowed onwards, asking, "Why not?"

Arthur paused, surveying Merlin with the same calculating look he'd been using all week, shifting for a second, as though debating whether to answer. "In case you really are as nice as you seem," he replied eventually, shrugging a shoulder, "Albeit completely useless and very irritating."

Merlin's mouth opened in surprise, things _finally_ slipping into place. "You don't like me because you don't think I'm being genuine?" he summarized.

The blond watched him coolly, the almost pleasant atmosphere fading away. "Don't trust you, more like," he explained, his eyes sharp and searching. "I've seen the wide-eyed innocent routine numerous times before, Merlin - it's used to catch people off guard. I just can't believe that you really are so annoyingly naive."

"It's - it's not a routine!" Merlin cried, feeling completely disconcerted, because that was _not_ what he had been expecting. What was he even supposed to say to defend himself? It didn't sound as though Arthur would believe him, either way.

"So you're saying you really are just naturally useless and irritating?" Arthur replied, eyes gleaming. He looked less stony now, more amused, evidently enjoying riling his roommate.

"I'm not useless!" Merlin shrieked, offended and frustrated by the accusations. "Better irritating than a pompous, arrogant PRAT!"

For a moment there was complete silence, with both cellmates staring at each other in surprise. Then Arthur grinned - a sharp, ferocious grin - flashing Merlin rows of pearly, white teeth.

"Do you want me to punch you?" he laughed, looking positively delighted by the prospect, moving forwards, like a cat cornering a mouse. "Because I'm pretty sure I can take you apart with one blow."

Merlin scowled, for once feeling too insulted to be either amused or terrified by Arthur's words. "Then I better get a hammer to defend myself with," he snapped, his heart hammering through his chest at his own stupidity.

"Not so wide-eyed and innocent after all," the blond commented, lips still curling into an amused little smile. "But still irritating."

Merlin decided to try and take the higher ground, mostly because he knew a fight with Arthur was a battle he could not win, and so chose to ignore the jibe. "I'm sorry if you don't think I'm genuine," he said, attempting to sound calm and collected - but mostly sounding incredulous that his character was being called into question by a _criminal_. "But I can't be anything other than myself. And my self is apparently naturally irritating."

Arthur smiled. It was neither a smirk nor a grin, but a genuinely pleased smile.

Merlin blinked, taken aback, because he'd half been expecting a punch. Honestly, it would have been less disconcerting if Arthur _had_ whacked him.

"Better irritating than fake," the blond replied, tilting his head and eyeing Merlin thoughtfully - a look entirely different from his previous suspicion. "I can handle irritating…I suppose."

Merlin let out a breath and hesitated, unsure of what else to do or say. "So, you believe me?" he ventured, feeling as though he'd lost all handle of the conversation, and attempting to pick up the general gist.

Arthur paused for a moment, and his smile faded. When he spoke his words were calm and even, although they held a dark undertone that sent shivers down Merlin's spine. "For now," he said.

Merlin could barely hold back a gulp, stepping back and away on instinct. Although Arthur had often spoke to him with anger, distain and annoyance, he had never sounded more dangerous.

"Good," Merlin muttered at last, attempting what he knew was a very weak smile.

"Good," the blond repeated, and his expression flashed again, the darkness gone, dispelled by a small quirk of his lips.

He watched Merlin for several moments, seemingly amused that the other man could not look him in the eye, and shuffled forwards, until he was inches from Merlin's face, totally unavoidable. His head was cocked and he was considering the dark-haired man closely, suddenly looking at Merlin like he'd never seen him before - his eyes bright and almost _interested_.

Merlin blinked in surprise, thrown by the sudden change in atmosphere, feeling as though the tables had just turned on him without his knowledge. Arthur's constant change in moods was leaving him reeling, mind foggy as he attempted to try and process his cellmate's increasingly impossible mental gymnastics.

He gulped, immediately realising he could feel Arthur's faint breath on his lips and the heat of his very muscled body.

"So…" the blond grinned, giving Merlin a very close view of his pearly, sharp teeth. "Now they we've reached a very uneasy understanding, what do you say to getting rid of some of this tension?"

Somewhat distracted by Arthur's very close proximity, Merlin merely blinked, the words not really registering in his increasingly foggy mind. "Huh?" he mouthed.

Arthur stared at him for a long moment, as though he was mentally deficient, before giving a loud sigh and rolling his eyes. He crossed his arms over his chest, and realising he was going to have to spell it out, asked bluntly, "Do you want to fuck?"

Arthur's words were so not what Merlin had been expecting, he stumbled backwards, eyes wide and mouth gaping.

"NO!" he squawked, his voice dangerously high. He'd gotten so used to Arthur's indifference and disinterest that he'd come to the conclusion that nothing would ever happen between them - so now that it was actually happening, his reply was shocked and instinctive. It was just typical that he'd been preparing for it for over a week, and yet when it finally happened, he was caught completely off guard.

Despite the immediate rejection, however, Arthur looked neither upset nor disappointed, something that hurt Merlin's ego slightly more than he'd ever care to admit. "You not gay?" the blond asked, backing away slightly and looking strangely sympathetic.

Merlin merely let out a straggled cry - unable to say anything more.

"Don't worry," Arthur said, evidently interpreting his groan as a 'no'. "You soon will be." He gave Merlin a condescending pat on the back and moved towards the cell door, casually letting himself back out.

Merlin watched him for a moment, in a strange sort of daze, before he realised Arthur was actually about to _leave_. "Where are you going?" he cried, the words tumbling out of his mouth before he was able to stop himself.

Arthur stopped and raised an eyebrow, looking distinctly unimpressed with Merlin's questioning. "What are you? My mother?" he said sarcastically, crossing his arms. "I'm going to see Lancelot."

Merlin's stomach dropped through the floor so quickly it made him feel slightly nauseous."Why?" he asked, although he had a feeling he already knew the answer, and did not like it.

The blond rolled his eyes. "We're going to go to our cross-stitching class. Why do you think, idiot?"

Throwing Merlin one last distasteful look (although on the bright side, it was no longer calculating), Arthur stalked out, leaving his cellmate wondering what on earth had just happened.

* * *

><p>"So, the good news is, I don't think Arthur's actually plotting my murder," Merlin explained in workshop the next day, in his most cheerful voice.<p>

After spending the night blinking up at the ceiling, he was now just choosing to ignore Arthur's impromptu exit the night before, because the prospect of Arthur going off to shag Lancelot after Merlin had refused him was downright sickening. When the blond had come back minutes before lockdown, shirt unbuttoned and hair damp, looking disgustingly blissed-out, it had taken all of Merlin's self-restraint not to throw something at him.

"Not planning your murder?" Will repeated, nodding his head in a thoughtful manner. "Well, that's progress…I guess."

"He's loosened up - sort of. He's slightly less wary," Merlin continued, thinking back to that very morning, where Arthur had actually bid him 'goodbye' as he left. Well, less 'goodbye' and more 'later idiot', but it was progress nevertheless. "And he finally propositioned me."

This got Will's attention.

"What?" he cried, waving his file in Merlin's face.

"Yeah, and I said no," Merlin explained, in a tone of faux disinterest. He looked down at his woodwork and pretended to look as though he knew what he was doing, adding casually, "So he went and fucked Lancelot."

"What?" Will yelped, abandoning his tools completely - the excitement obviously too much for him. "I thought fucking him was what you wanted!"

"_No_! I just wanted to get it over with, because you made out it was unavoidable!" Merlin exclaimed, voice rising. Several members of the workshop group turned to stare at the couple, looking increasingly baffled by the exchange. "But I said no, and he went off to shag Lancelot!"

"So you've said," Will replied, sounding annoyingly calm in comparison Merlin's own mounting hysteria. "Oh, this is so messed up." He shook his head in exasperation. "It doesn't even make sense anymore."

"It never made sense in the first place! I was just going by your warped logic," Merlin said, pointing an accusing finger at his new friend.

"Hey, don't blame the situation on me," Will muttered, holding up his hands and giving the other man a pointed look. "It's not my fault he shagged Lancelot!"

"That is not what this is about."

Will rolled his eyes. "Of course it is. You said no, he went off with Pretty-boy, now you're upset."

"I'm not upset!" Merlin insisted, filing his block of wood into non-existence. "It's just…people are not supposed to proposition one person and then go fuck someone else five minutes later. It's rude."

"Yes, because Arthur has always been known for his compassion and kindness," Will said sarcastically. "I'm just surprised you made it through the whole conversation with your limbs still intact."

Merlin gave out a short laugh, catching a nail on his file and causing him to drop it on the floor. It fell with a loud_ clack_, and everyone in the nearby vicinity turned around to glare at him. Shrugging his shoulders and smiling apologetically, Merlin went to retrieve it, listening with half an ear as Will waffled on behind him.

"Especially after you called him a 'pompous, arrogant prat,'" he continued, giving a loud chuckle and proping his arms up on the table.

"Yeah, I was quite proud of that," Merlin grinned, feeling lighter than he had all day, cheered by Will's boundless enthusiasm.

He threw his friend a grateful look over his shoulder, and bent down to pick up his file, only for a long lithe hand to dart out in front of him, snatching it away.

"Wha - ?" he began, before his words died in his throat.

Mordred was stood in front of him, straight-backed and silent, clasping Merlin's file loosely in his palm. His face was translucently pale up close, but for the first time, Merlin saw something other than complete indifference in the man's expression. His lips were curved into a faint smile, which looked more sinister than either happy or pleased - it was downright creepy.

He extended his hand slowly, holding out Merlin's file for the taking.

Merlin took it hesitantly, and gave the other man what he hoped was a grateful smile, trying to calm the panicked and paranoid stuttering of his heart. "Uh, thanks."

Mordred said nothing in return, assessing Merlin closely, eyes positively alight with curiosity. After a moment, evidently seeing nothing of importance, he turned and glided silently away, movements unnervingly smooth and graceful - like his feet were not even touching the floor.

Merlin blinked.

"Okkk," he croaked, looking back at Will, who had watched the whole exchange with raised eyebrows. "How long was he stood there?" He shook his head, attempting to clear the strange fog Mordred presence had cast over him. "That was really creepy - did he even blink?"

"That is the gaze of a cold-blooded killer," Will commented, nodding his head and resuming his filing, as though he'd said nothing out of the ordinary.

"He's a murderer?" Merlin cried, watching Modred sit down on the other side of the room, unable to shake off his body's chill.

Will blew sawdust off his file's surface, and replied with a very casual, "So the rumours say."

"What's he doing in this workshop?" Merlin asked, feeling certain he hadn't seen the creepy druid in their group before; he was sure he'd remember him.

"He had to move groups after the fight with Arthur," his friend explained, shrugging his shoulders. "They can't be trusted to not attack each other, apparently."

Merlin's mouth opened in a silent 'oh', but he said nothing, gaze unexplainably drawn to the peculiar Mordred, despite his instincts screaming at him to look far, far away.

To his surprise, Mordred was looking straight back, although his expression revealed nothing. It was decidedly more scary than Arthur's stares, because at least with the blond, Merlin knew exactly what the looks meant. Glares of contempt and disgust were quite hard to misread. With Mordred however, Merlin could only guess at what the empty expression was hiding.

Suppressing a shiver, he turned back to Will, suddenly eager to engage him in conversation. Anything to distract him from the piercing stare, burning into the back of his head.

* * *

><p>After workshop was finally over, Merlin bid Will goodbye, choosing to return to his cell, rather than proceed to the communal area. Not only was the communal area filled with men twice Merlin's size and twice as beastly, it was also a hang out for the druids, who Merlin wanted to give a wide berth after the strange events of the day.<p>

If he was being honest with himself, he wanted to be as far away from Mordred as possible, after their rather unnerving exchange over his filing tool - and not to mention the blatant staring that followed.

Merlin was beginning to wonder whether he had some obscene phrase tattooed on his forehead he had not yet noticed, as a disturbing number of people seemed to spend their time staring at him. First Arthur, and now Mordred. He'd never been so fascinating in his entire life, and he wasn't quite used to the attention.

Running his hands over his face and hair to check everything was still in the right place, he stepped through a barred door, nodding to the guards who had opened it for him.

Continuing down the corridor, he rounded a corner, anxious to get back to his cell. Despite the stalemate he had finally reached with Arthur, he still couldn't shake off his feelings of paranoia, which Mordred had successfully managed to magnify - like something was something to happen, and it was going to happen _soon_.

And with good reason, because stood at the end of the corridor was Mordred himself, flanked by two members of the druid gang.

They stood silent and waiting, and Merlin vaguely wondered how they had managed to beat him here - they had been in the same workshop, after all.

His heart accelerated and he froze, looking for any sign of the guards.

Unfortunately, the current stretch of corridor was empty, and the guards Merlin had passed earlier were out of sight. Gulping slightly, he turned to watch Mordred float towards him, lips curling into a haunted smile.

"Um, hi," Merlin said, attempting to break the tension with a rather nervous laugh - hoping and _praying_ that it was all just a figment of his overactive imagination.

To his complete astonishment, Mordred actually replied, voice hollow and empty in the stillness of the corridor. "Hello."

"I'm just going to my cell," Merlin stated, voice considerably stronger than he expected it to be. He attempted to move around them, only to be stopped by the two druid members at Mordred's side, and any hope that remained fell quickly away.

"I heard you talking in workshop," Mordred said, as though Merlin had not spoken. "About Arthur."

"Um, so?" he replied, instinctively moving backwards as Modred quietly advanced on him, figuring that talking was a preferred alternative to what else the druids could do to him.

"You have a very strange relationship," the druid stated, eyes glazed in thought, the concept seemingly fascinating to him.

"Relationship?" Merlin laughed shakily, Will's words concerning Mordred and Arthur ringing clearly in his mind. To the druids any association with Arthur was obviously bad, bad news. And so, swallowing loudly, he croaked, "We have no relationship."

Mordred paused, inches away from his face. He leant forward, icy breath ghosting over Merlin's lips, and breathed, "Liar."

Merlin staggered backwards, causing Mordred's face to break out into a malicious smile, far more terrifying than Merlin had seen before, completely contorting his features. He no longer looked calm and passive, but frighteningly amused, eyes gleaming brighter than the other man had ever seen them.

Letting out a small groan when he realised he'd literally just backed himself into a corner, Merlin began to assess his options, quickly deciding his escape. He could do one of two things: run and hope to be faster than Mordred's henchmen, or scream like a little girl and pray for rescue.

He chose to do both.

TBC...

* * *

><p><em><strong>AN** I don't know whether I explained Arthur's wariness of Merlin very well this chapter, or Merlin's conflicted feelings, but it initially made sense in my head. I hope it makes sense here, but things that initially make sense in my head don't often pan out quite the way I picture them XD I didn't check this chapter very well either, so please forgive any errors! I figured I should post it sooner rather than later!_

_And to all those to say it was very convenient that Merlin was in an empty hallway with no guards, it will become apparent why later in the story - there is a reason!_

_Takes hours to write, and only minutes to review, so please R&R! (Yes, this is my new catchphrase!)_


	4. A Pain in the Past

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Pairing: Arthur/Merlin

Warnings: Language, SLASH, sexual situations...you know, all the good stuff. XD

_**A/N Again thank you so much for the reviews for this story! It makes me so happy that people are enjoying it! Now this is the chapter the PLOT actually begins. Yay! It's time for Arthur's backstory, people...**_

* * *

><p><strong><span>Cellmate<span>**

**Chapter Four - A Pain in the Past**

Merlin's cry echoed down the corridor, temporarily surprising Mordred's henchmen, who flinched backwards in surprise, evidently not expecting quite such a loud response.

Seizing the opportunity, Merlin flung himself forwards, attempting to propel himself down the corridor and towards the safety of the guards.

But unlike his fellow druid members, Mordred was ready for him, moving faster than Merlin thought possible. Before he had moved more than a foot, a cold vice-like hand had secured itself around his arm, and yanked him backwards, rooting him to the spot. Merlin let out a moan of horror, struggling against the stony grip, and reeling from the momentum of Mordred's grasp.

A second later he was backed up against the wall, translucent blue eyes only inches away from his face. Breathing heavily, he tried to squirm away, only for Mordred's grip to tighten - pointed and threatening.

"What do you want?" he gasped, meeting the druid's piercing gaze and attempting to shrink away.

"From you? Nothing," Mordred answered, his voice silky smooth compared to Merlin's own wavering stutter.

"Then what - ?" Merlin broke off, letting out a cry of pain as the druid twisted his arm back on itself, effectively silencing him. His arm screamed its protest, and he went limp, like a rag-doll in Mordred's embrace.

The druid then brought his other hand up to Merlin's face, cradling his jaw with sharp, icy fingers. He seemed to be analysing him, eyes roaming his features with a look of careful interest.

Merlin was frozen, breathing heavily through his nose, desperately trying not to make a move that would cause Mordred's grip on his already throbbing arm to tighten further.

But before the druid could say or do anything else, another voice broke through the deafening silence - a voice so fantastically familiar, Merlin almost burst into happy tears at the sound. "Well, isn't this romantic?" Arthur said sarcastically, his words echoing loudly down the otherwise quiet corridor.

Both Merlin and Mordred started, looking away from each other and towards the source of the noise, faces still inches apart.

Mordred paused for a moment and closed his eyes, looking irritated and strangely long-suffering.

Merlin let out a sigh of relief, having never been so happy anybody in his _entire_ life. He used the distraction to twist out of the druid's slackening grip, stumbling towards the blond as fast as his trembling legs would carry him. Mordred made no move to prevent his escape, but his eyes were narrowed now, looking from the blond to Merlin with thinly-veiled dislike.

Arthur (typically) took no notice of Merlin's approach and advanced, until he was inches away from Mordred's face - the looks between them so intense, Merlin felt like he was intruding on something private.

The two other druid's tensed in anticipation, fists curling and shoulders straightening, as though preparing themselves for a fight. They stood at Mordred's back, scowling threateningly at the smirking blond, who seemed to be embarking on a silent staring contest with his opponent.

Then, without warning, Arthur raised a fist and drove it directly into Mordred's face, connecting with his nose in a sickening crunch. The druid reeled backwards, but somehow managed to remain standing, blood splattering over his pale, and momentarily stricken, face.

Everyone flinched in shock, and Merlin's mouth dropped open in utter disbelief - but before anyone could do anything further, another voice joined the fray.

"PENDRAGON!" The screech was high and piercing, followed by the unmistakable sound of heavy shoes clacking against the tiled floor.

Arthur sighed but drew back, inspecting the scarlet blood dripping off his knuckles with a look of careful interest. "Morgana," he acknowledged, sounding bored and disarmingly casual - as though he was often caught with his hands full of blood by prison guards.

Morgana advanced on the group of prisoners, face thunderous and her dark hair streaming behind her. "Well, why am I not surprised?" she said icily, stopping in front of them and immediately rounding on Arthur. "Arthur Pendragon, fighting again."

The blond rolled his eyes and shrugged, not looking the least bit guilty about the stream of blood trickling down Mordred's face. It seemed to be falling steadily - dripping from his nose, dying his teeth and staining his lips.

"Attacking people again means isolation, Pendragon," Morgana said, giving him a dark and somewhat triumphant smile.

"I know," the blond replied, wiping Mordred's blood off his hand and onto his shirt.

He said nothing further, however, and Merlin looked at him in surprise, expecting a fight, or an argument, or _something, _at least. "Um, it wasn't Arthur's fault," he announced after a pause, as the blond didn't seem very inclined to say anything in his own defence. He shrank back slightly as everyone turned to stare at him, but continued, wanting to repay Arthur's rescue _somehow_. "Mordred attacked me and twisted my arm, but Arthur came and stopped him."

Blinking in poorly disguised surprise, Morgana raised her eyebrows and turned to Arthur, apparently unconvinced by Merlin's explanation. "You," she said, pointing a steely finger from one man to the other, "Defended him?"

"Yeah. Weird, right?" Arthur replied, giving her a rather bemused smile. It looked strangely out of place on his face. "I don't know why, either."

Merlin scowled and crossed his arms, somewhat annoyed that his kind gesture had been rebutted, only to receive a glittering grin in return. He really wished the blond didn't look so disarmingly gorgeous when he did things like that, as Merlin was afraid his irritated scowl had turned into a rather love-struck stare.

"Right," Morgana said, still sounding uncharacteristically confused. She turned back to Mordred and Merlin, eyes probingly assessing their injuries. "Mordred, Emrys, you better go get checked out by Gwen."

"No," Mordred stated immediately, voice ice cold and expression impassive, even as scarlet blood trickled down his chin and onto the floor. He still made no move to prevent it, ignoring the injury like it insignificant - completely beneath his notice.

Merlin assumed that Morgana would protest, but she merely nodded, accepting his decision without question.

"Very well," she said, causing Merlin to blink in surprise. "Off you go then. You three go back to your cells."

Mordred and his two henchmen turned without a word, gliding back down the corridor and out of sight. Merlin could see the trail of blood drops that Mordred left in his wake, vivid red against the white tiles of the floor, just as they had been against the druid's pale, round face.

Unable to believe that Morgana had let Mordred go without punishment, Merlin turned to Arthur, who looked irritated, but wholly unsurprised.

"Pendragon, escort Emrys to the medical bay," Morgana ordered, ignoring the annoyed looks the two prisoners were exchanging. "Then go back to your cell and stay there."

Despite his irritation, Arthur nodded and said nothing, evidently eager to close the conversation with Morgana as quickly as possible.

But before Merlin had even had the chance to say anything, the blond had grabbed his arm and yanked him backwards, steering him down the corridor and away from the frowning guard.

"Hey!" Merlin cried, uncomfortable - and maybe a bit turned on - with the way Arthur was manhandling him.

"Shut up, will you? I just saved your ass," the blond hissed, glaring at his companion out the corner of his eye and frog-marching them through a gate.

"And I just stopped you from getting in trouble," Merlin countered, scrambling to keep with Arthur's long and purposeful strides, already starting to feel a little bit winded.

The blond rolled his eyes, seemingly unimpressed with Merlin's defence of him, and pointed out, "And I wouldn't have been in trouble if I hadn't of helped you."

Merlin inhaled a lungful of air, and glared at his cellmate through the corner of his eye, insulted and a little bit hurt that his help had gone unappreciated! "Mordred attacked me because of _you_!" he cried, regretting the words immediately, faltering as the blond to ground to a halt beside him.

He was looking at Merlin in complete astonishment, eyes wide and very round. "What?" he croaked, bringing up a hand to run through his hair - a gesture that looked uncomfortable, almost nervous.

"At least I think he did," Merlin explained, wanting to back-peddle but realising it was too late. He gave a helpless shrug. "He spoke about our 'relationship.'"

Arthur raised his eyebrows, and cocked his head to the side. "We don't have a relationship," he pointed out, as though Merlin didn't already know. "But it does seem like something Mordred would do: attack someone he thinks is close to me."

"But I barely know you! I've not even been here two weeks!" Merlin yelped, mentally cursing the unfairness of the whole situation. It was just his luck that a dangerous gang would think he'd allied himself with their enemy, despite the fact that he and Arthur barely tolerated each other.

The blond shrugged. "But you share a cell with me - close quarters and all that."

Merlin groaned and tried to suppress the urge to hit his head against a brick wall, folding his arms crossly. "Does that mean he'll target me again?"

Arthur gave a lazy shrug and started walking again, causing Merlin to jog up behind him. "No idea," he replied, sounding irritatingly unconcerned.

"Well, thanks - now I feel really reassured," Merlin muttered, ignoring the bark of laughter Arthur let out in response. He glanced at the blond through the corner of his eye, and feeling generous - not to mention wanting to prevent a fight - added, "I'll forgive you though, considering you saved me."

The grin faded from Arthur's face and his eyebrows knitted together, giving him an expression of strange discomfit. He seemed thrown whenever Merlin showed him understanding or kindness, as though he wasn't sure what to make of it.

"I…don't understand," the blond said carefully, after an increasingly uncomfortable pause. He seemed to be weighing his words, turning them over in his mind. "You're always nice to me, you defended me to Morgana, but you turned me down when I offered to sleep with you? What is it that you _want_?"

Merlin frowned, and replied, "I don't want anything. Is that so hard to believe?"

Arthur's reply came quickly this time, without a single second's hesitation. "Yes," he said simply.

"You really think that?" Merlin asked, genuinely surprised that anyone could have such a cynical outlook on life. No wonder Arthur was so mistrusting, if he truly believed people only ever acted kindly in order to get things in return.

"I have no reason to believe otherwise." The blond sounded surprised too, as though he couldn't believe that Merlin _didn't_ share the same opinion as him. His voice was still cold and impersonal, but he seemed to be working harder to keep it that way, obviously unnerved by the direction the conversation was taking.

"Have I ever given you a reason not to trust me?" Merlin asked, following his companion down an unfamiliar white corridor, unnervingly silent away from the bustle of ordinary prison life. They passed a couple more guards, who parted to allow them access with surprisingly little interrogation.

"You haven't given me a reason to make me trust you, either," Arthur replied, sounding stubborn now, rather than aloof and detached.

"Has Lancelot?" Merlin countered, before he could stop himself.

He was mentally kicking himself as Arthur paused, turning in the corridor to face him.

"What's that supposed to mean?" the blond wondered, eyes narrowing dangerously. He folded his arms across his chest and draw himself up to his full height, although he was still just eye-level with Merlin. "What's Lancelot got to do with anything?"

"You just seem to trust him, that's all," Merlin explained, attempting to sound casual. The last thing he wanted to do was admit that he had been spying on Arthur and Lancelot, as it would probably cost him his life - or worse, his dignity.

"Why I trust Lancelot is none of your business," Arthur replied, his voice colder and more threatening than Merlin had heard it in days.

"I was just asking."

"Why?" the blond cried, flinging up his arms. He finally seemed to have lost his cool and collected façade, voice hoarse and face crinkled in frustration. "Why do you keep asking me all these questions? Why do you even care?"

Merlin opened his mouth and shut it again, unable to think of an appropriate response. He settled for shrugging instead, because well, there seemed to be less chance of getting a punch that way.

Arthur groaned in frustration, running his hands over his face before attempting to collect himself. Taking in three long breaths (Merlin counted), he lifted an arm and pointed to a door down the end of the corridor.

"That's Gwen's office," the blond stated, sounding tired. "She's the prison doctor."

"Oh," Merlin said, surprised that they'd made it to the medical bay. He'd been so engrossed in the conversation he'd barely been paying attention to where they were going. "Thanks."

"Hmm," Arthur grumbled, throwing Merlin an exasperated glance. "Go and see whether she's got some pills for your obvious mental affliction."

Merlin scowled. "I don't -"

"Please, for the love of god, don't start," Arthur muttered, looking very much like he wanted to take a gun and shoot himself with it.

Merlin didn't know whether to be proud or insulted that he'd managed to invoke such a reaction in the blond, but he quietened nevertheless, giving Arthur an irriated glare. "But you just insulted me," he pointed out, shifting from foot to foot.

Arthur raised his eyes to the heavens but contained a scathing reply, choosing instead to indicate to the door once again. "Well…are you going to go, or not?"

"Oh. Yes, I am."

"Go on then," Arthur prompted, after Merlin didn't move.

Merlin shuffled in hesitation, and wrung his hands nervously. He had something that he wanted - no, _needed_ - to say, and now that he and Arthur had reached somewhat of an understanding, he finally felt comfortable enough to try and say it. "Thanks for bringing me," he said, giving a small smile.

"I didn't have much of a choice," the blond muttered, looking quite disarmed by the thanks.

"And thanks for saving me," Merlin continued, despite the increasingly uncomfortable expression on his cellmate's face.

"I got to punch Mordred - it was my pleasure," Arthur replied after a moment, his face contorting into a smirk, apparently unable to contain his glee.

Merlin watched him closely, frowning in confusion, and deciding now was his time to push. "What's going on with you and Mordred?" he asked hesitantly, causing Arthur's gaze to flicker away. "Why do you hate each other so much?"

Arthur's face smoothed into an expression of indifference, but his voice was threatening as he said, "It's none of you're business."

Merlin threw up his arms. "It is my business!" he cried, mouth gaping. "I was the one that got attacked because of it!"

Arthur sighed and looked away, anger temporarily dissipated. He took a long pause as Merlin breathed loudly and deeply, attempting to get his hammering heart back under control. He seemed to be debating with himself, but his expression was resigned, like he _knew_ he had no choice but to explain.

"My father got Mordred and his friends arrested, because he thinks they killed my mother," he explained dully, eyes focused on a dark patch on the opposite wall.

Merlin gasped, unable to stop himself. He assessed the blond with wide eyes, thrown, and utterly unsure of what to say. "Was it them?" he asked after a pause, resisting the urge to reach out and run a hand through his cellmate's hair soothingly.

"It was never proven," was all Arthur said, neither confirming nor denying it.

Merlin couldn't bring himself to say anything else, so just nodded and looked at the floor, glancing at Arthur from under his eyelashes. He needed to change the subject and fast, because he couldn't stand to see Arthur looking so saddened. "Well, again I say, thanks for saving me," he ventured.

The blond said nothing, staring at Merlin with a searching expression and giving a small shrug. After a moment's silence he spoke again, lips curling slightly at the sides. "Well, that was my good deed for the year," he said, breaking the uneasy atmosphere and returning them to more stable ground, looking quite proud of himself.

"Well done," Merlin replied, unable to keep the sarcasm out of his voice.

Arthur smile faded and he scowled, looking decidedly disgruntled. He shooed Merlin away. "You can go now."

"I don't need your permission!" Merlin yelped, folding his arms stubbornly and barely suppressing the urge to stamp his foot in a tantrum.

"Oh, god give me strength," Arthur cried, closing his eyes for a moment in an attempt not to strangle his cellmate. "I'll go then!"

Throwing Merlin another withering look, he spun on a heel and walked away, straight-backed and silent.

"I'll see you later then!" Merlin called after him, only to receive the finger in response.

Secretly quite pleased that the rollercoaster conversation had ended with such a playful exchange, Merlin glided to the doctor's door in a daze, feeling as though he was finally making progress. Arthur had told him something personal of his own free will, showing that he was beginning to open up, if only slightly.

Only just managing to prevent a grin, Merlin gave the door two sharp knocks, waiting for a signal to enter.

His arm screamed in protest at the action and he winced, hissing in pain. He clutched it gingerly and cursed, just as a high female voice floated through the door.

"Come in," it said, distracting him from the pain.

He used his uninjured arm to push open the door, entering a small white room. It had a desk pushed up against the far wall, a steel cabinet above it, and an observation table by the door. Behind the desk sat a smiling woman, who Merlin guessed was Gwen. She was small and thin, with black curly hair and dark skin, bright against the blankness of the room.

"What can I do for you?" she asked, climbing to her feet and approaching him.

"Hi, I'm Merlin Emrys. I'm here because I've injured my arm," he explained, unable to stop himself from returning her warm, kind smile. She seemed friendly enough, and that was something severely lacking in prison - he missed receiving a genuinely nice welcome.

"Ok. Well, sit down while I have a look at you," she said, pointing to the observation table.

Merlin sat down and allowed her to roll up his sleeve, wincing as her hands travelled lightly up his arm. She pressed her gentle fingers against the blossoming bruising, apologising every time she hurt him. She took down notes on numerous papers, asking him questions and filling in his personal information.

He was beginning to feel comfortable and relaxed in her presence - her gaze warm and friendly, and her touch careful and sure.

"So, you're Arthur Pendragon's roommate, yes?" Gwen asked suddenly, choosing to initiate conversation as she finished her notes. She glanced up at him through curious eyes, practically alight with interest. "He brought you here?"

Merlin looked up, and frowned in confusion. "Yeah. How'd you know that?" he asked, shrugging his shoulders

"I could hear you both down the corridor," Gwen said, giving him a small smile. "It wasn't as though you were whispering."

Merlin blushed, but said nothing, realising she had a point.

"He told you about the feud between himself and Mordred," she commented, taking down brief notes on a chart and looking away from him. It looked purposely casual, as though she was interested, but was reluctant to admit as much.

"You know about it?" Merlin asked, surprised. "How come? Nobody else around here seems to." And by nobody else, he meant Will, who had mentioned nothing about Arthur's father being responsible for Mordred's imprisonment, despite the numerous conversations they'd had regarding his blond cellmate.

"Arthur likes to keep quiet about it, so nobody really knows what actually happened," Gwen explained, taking his arm once again and massaging it with gentle fingers. "There are rumours, of course, but nobody knows for sure. I'm surprised he told you as much as he did."

Merlin's eyebrows rocketed up his forehead. "There's more?"

"Oh, yes." Gwen smiled sadly, and there was something knowing in his gaze.

"How do you know?" he asked, confused that the doctor seemed to know more about it than the prisoners themselves.

Seemingly sensing Merlin's unblinking gaze, Gwen busied herself with her papers, looking increasingly uncomfortable under his scrutiny. "Lancelot told me," she replied, in a soft voice, "And Arthur told him."

Merlin paused, taking a minute to process her words, before asking, "Can you tell me?"

"It's not my story to tell," she muttered, with a small jerk of her head - but her eyes were creased, and she looked unsure.

"Nor was it Lancelot's," Merlin responded, expression earnest. He didn't want to push her into telling him details of Arthur's personal life (ideally he wanted to hear it from Arthur himself), but he was involved now, and he _had_ to know. His safety could depend on it.

Gwen considered him for a moment, obviously dithering. She licked her lips and looked away, hands fumbling with her paperwork. "Arthur does seem to trust you…" she murmured, more to herself than the room at large.

Merlin decided not to contradict her, no matter how blatantly untrue the statement was, realising she was close to cracking.

"Please," he insisted, in his most sincere voice, "I'm not going to tell anyone."

Gwen's brown eyes locked with his own. "For some reason, I believe that," she replied, letting out a defeated sigh. "Oh, alright then, but you can't let Arthur know I told you. It's a sensitive subject."

Merlin nodded eagerly, and gestured for her to continue, hoping that he was coming one step closer to understanding his cellmate, and why he acted the way that he did.

"Do you know what Arthur's in here for?" Gwen asked, sitting down on the observation table to talk to him.

A previous conversation with Will tugged at his memory. "Um, GBH?"

"Well, that's close enough, I suppose," Gwen said, taking in a long, deep breath, as though preparing herself for a story. "Arthur's father, Uther Pendragon, is the leader of a quite a powerful gang - sort of like the druids. Whether Arthur was part of the gang before his arrest is unclear, but he certainly grew up in that sort of environment."

Merlin suppressed a groan, slowly realising that Arthur was much more dangerous than he'd originally given him credit for. Although he'd always known that the blond was considered powerful and sometimes frightening, apart from his blatant rudeness and maddening arrogance, Merlin hadn't found anything truly terrifying about his cellmate. But that may of been because of his own complete obliviousness, and as Arthur had pointed out, his complete lack of self-preservation instincts.

"Although the druids and the Pendragons weren't exactly bitter enemies, they were opposing gangs," Gwen explained. "I suppose some rivalry was to be expected. But a few years ago, it all came to head when Uther's wife and Arthur's mother was murdered. Her name was Igraine."

Merlin was unable to prevent a shiver, remembering his cellmate's dull voice when he'd spoken about it in the corridor. He suddenly wasn't sure whether he wanted to know the details.

"She and Arthur were out together, only a couple of blocks away from their home, when they were ambushed," Gwen continued, looking at the floor. "I'm not sure what happened exactly, as Arthur has never told Lancelot the details, but Igraine was stabbed in the fray. Her injuries were fatal, and she died later in hospital. Arthur however, fought the attackers off. Although with Igraine injured, he was alone and outnumbered, he still managed to come out of the fight relatively unscathed."

Merlin was fairly sure that his mouth was hanging open, but he couldn't bring himself to shut it. He was imagining Igraine, fragile and defenceless, lying curled and bleeding upon the floor. Images of Arthur, desperate and crazed, flashed through his mind, as well as the sickening slash of a bloody knife.

He pressed a hand against his forehead, beginning to feel vaguely ill; Gwen smiled at him sympathetically, giving him a small pat on the arm.

"But in his fight with the attackers, Arthur managed to stab two of his opponents," she said, shaking her head. "Although they both survived - unlike Igraine - one ended up partially paralysed for a number of months, and the other was brought to the hospital in critical condition."

There was a painful silence, where both could think of absolutely nothing to say.

Merlin finally gathered his wits and attempted speech, face ghostly pale and feeling almost dizzy with confusion. "So, that's what Arthur was charged with?" he muttered faintly, unable to summon up any sort of emotion beyond shock and sympathy. Was it a good thing Arthur had stabbed two people in self-defense? He wasn't even sure.

"Yes," Gwen replied simply.

For some reason Merlin felt a spark of _something_ in his chest - was it _anger_? "But it was self-defence! They attacked him first!" Merlin cried, unsure of why he was coming to Arthur's defence, but feeling strangely outraged on his behalf.

"I don't think that mattered to the court," she explained. "Arthur's a Pendragon. The police have been waiting a very long time to charge one of them with something, and the fact that it was Uther's son was even more of a bonus."

Merlin rested his head against his hands and let out a sigh.

"Of course, there was no proof that the people behind the attack were the druids," Gwen said, gazing at the wall and lifting a shoulder. "But Uther's a powerful man. He managed to get Mordred - as well as a few others - sent down for different crimes."

"Which is why Mordred and Arthur hate each other," Merlin confirmed, shaking his head, and attempting to work it all out in his mind. From what he could gather, it did sort of make sense - in a horrific, messed up kind of way. "Arthur thinks Mordred killed his mother, and Mordred sees Arthur as the one responsible for his sentence."

Gwen nodded, letting out a long breath, and said, "That's about it, yes."

"Oh my god," he groaned, wondering what on earth he'd managed to get himself involved in, and dismaying at how this had managed to become his life. He was living in a nightmare, he was sure of it.

They both sat in contemplative silence for a few minutes, unsure of how to break the tension. Gwen picked back up her chart and continued filling in his information, head bent and hair shielding her face.

It was only when a shill beep shattered the silence, that either of them dared speak again.

"That's my pager," Gwen explained, getting to her feet and walking to a steel cabinet behind her desk. "I'm needed elsewhere."

Merlin nodded, following her movements with glazed eyes, and vaguely realising that his arm was still throbbing in pain.

"Your arm isn't broken or fractured, just severely bruised," she continued, voice taking on a more aloof air of professionalism. She pulled a small bottle of white pills from the cabinet and passed them to him. "Take two of those painkillers."

"Now?"

"Yes," Gwen nodded, giving him a smile. "I can't allow you to take painkillers back into the prison. They have to be administered here."

Merlin deposited two small white pills into his hand, before tilting back his head and swallowing them.

"If you need anymore, you'll have to come back."

Merlin nodded, sliding off the table and giving her a rather wan smile. "Well, thanks for the help," he said, in what he hoped was a cheery voice - in reality, he just sounded slightly pained. "And thanks for setting the record straight."

She gave him a genuine smile, eyes glittering. "It was nice meeting you, Merlin."

"You too." He turned and let himself back out, stepping into the corridor and moving towards his cell.

His mind was whirling painfully, mostly with flashing bloody images, rather than actual coherent thoughts. He wondered how he was going to sleep with his mind in imagination overdrive, then wondered how Arthur slept at all. The events of that night were too horrific to even comprehend.

He shook his head and gritted his teeth, attempting to regain control of himself before he dared face Arthur again.

* * *

><p>By the time he had got back to their cell, he was in a far calmer state, determined for Arthur to notice nothing different about his appearance or behaviour.<p>

When he let himself in, however, he was still unexplainably nervous, as though worried his cellmate would see straight through him within seconds. It wouldn't even surprise him if Arthur was in fact a mindreader.

Fortunately, the blond seemed otherwise distracted.

He was sat on the edge of his bed, rocking slightly and wringing his hands. The anxious and edgy gestures unnerved Merlin slightly, as he'd never seen Arthur anything but calm and collected. His heart sunk, because even from the atmosphere in the room, he could just feel that something really wasn't right.

But before he had the chance to verbally question his cellmate's behaviour, the blond looked up and spotted him - his expression desperate and strangely earnest.

"Did you see Lancelot?" Arthur cried, leaping to his feet and startling Merlin so much he almost fell back out the door again. His face was unusually pale behind his blond bangs, his hair was ruffled, and he looked strangely jittery, as though he'd seen a ghost.

Merlin stared for a second, briefly wondering whether he'd just walked in on a very strange prearranged booty-call between Arthur and Lancelot, and barely repressed a groan. "What?" he asked, shaking his head confusedly - his brain too mushed to think of a more coherent reply.

"In the medical bay - did you see Lancelot?" Arthur's voice was hoarse and clipped, barely containing what Merlin guessed was anger and impatience.

"Um, no," he replied. "What do you mean? Why would Lancelot be in the medical bay?"

Arthur let out a long breath, hands curling in white-knuckled fists and teeth grinding into a fierce snarl. He looked so threatening, that for one brief moment, Merlin was afraid.

"Because," Arthur snipped, "He's been attacked."

Merlin's mouth dropped open, his expression strangely blank compared to Arthur's barely concealed rage. He'd never met Lancelot personally, but it was surprising that somebody so powerful and popular within the prison had been targeted. "By who?" he gasped.

Arthur scowled. "Who do you think? By Mordred!"

TBC...

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><p><em><strong>AN Yep, as many of you guessed, Merlin was saved by Arthur - it makes a nice change from the actual program! **_

_**When I wrote this, I was never totally happy with the convo between Merlin and Arthur, or with the one with Merlin and Gwen. But even after I've reviewed it, it still bothers me! :[ Oh well, I hope you all enjoy it anyway!**_

_**Hours to write, minutes to review, so please R&R! :)**_


	5. Cold Comfort

Disclaimer: I own nothing, blah blah blah.

Pairing: Arthur/Merlin

**WARNINGS: This chapter has explicit sex! Sex between two men! PLEASE TAKE NOTE OF THE M RATING. If you are underage, or don't like it, please leave now! Ye be warned! Also slash and language.**

_**A/N **Thanks again for the reviews, it's great hearing theories and everyone's opinions on what's happening! There's a break from the plot this chapter, but you'll see why. I make no apologies )_

* * *

><p><strong>Cellmate<strong>

**Chapter 5 - Cold Comfort**

"Mordred?" Merlin cried, choking slightly on his own spit, the very name sending shivers down his spine. "How? When?"

"While you were in the medical bay," Arthur replied automatically, scraping his hands against the sides of his face. The skin stained red momentarily, before fading back to a sickly white. "I came back from showing you there and everyone was talking about it."

Merlin opened his mouth uselessly for a moment, shut it again, before finally croaking, "What happened?"

"He was hit on the back of the head on his way to dinner - by some sort of weapon," the blond hissed, letting out a frustrated cry and beginning to pace the room. He looked tired and dishevelled, his hair in disarray and his eyes slightly blood-shot, his movements sharp and almost a little bit crazed. "He has head trauma, or so people are saying."

Merlin did not reply, unwilling to say or do anything that would aggravate his cellmate further. He stood and watched Arthur storm about the room, running his hands through his hair and cursing fluently - feeling as though he'd just entered a room with a ticking time bomb, ready to explode.

"And if he's not in the medical bay," Arthur continued, in a strange sort of ramble, like he was speaking to himself rather than Merlin, "It means it was serious enough for them to take him straight to hospital." The thought only seemed to distress him further, and he lashed out - kicking their metal bin across the room, until it clanged loudly against the opposite wall and rolled back under the bunk-bed.

Merlin jumped at the sound but remained where he was, working to keep his voice calm and even in his own mounting concern. "That must have been where Gwen was going," he said, causing Arthur to look up at him in surprise, as though he'd completely forgotten he was there. "She got paged just before I left."

"I can't believe it," Arthur muttered, stopping abruptly in the middle of the room. "The little fucker. He failed to get you, so he went straight for Lancelot."

Merlin assumed he was talking about Mordred, but how had the druid even had time? It didn't even make sense. "Didn't Morgana tell him to go back to his room?" he pointed out.

Arthur rolled his eyes, the gesture seemingly instinctive, despite his mounting rage. "Yeah, like they were going to listen to that!" he snapped.

Merlin shrugged and opened his mouth uncertainly, struggling to find something to say - torn between staying to comfort his roommate and backing swiftly out of the cell. With the blond so on edge he was beginning to worry for his own safety, but leaving the room and potentially running into Mordred wasn't really any safer a plan. And so he chose the lesser of the two evils and seated himself on the edge of Arthur's bed, counting on the blond being too preoccupied with bitching about Mordred to care.

"So, did they catch him?" he asked after a moment, in his softest voice, not wanting to startle Arthur with any sudden movements.

"No." The blond stopped, his face contorting, and let out a rather shaky breath. "But that's just typical."

Merlin was sure the blond was making a reference to his mother's death, but said nothing, knowing it would be far wiser to feign obliviousness. If Arthur ever found out he knew the intimate details of his family life, he'd probably be smothered to death in his sleep - or worse, handed over to Mordred on a silver platter.

"And he couldn't even take Lancelot on face to face," the blond continued, clenching his fists so tight his knuckles turned white with the strain. His voice was clipped and bitter, almost bursting with suppressed emotion. "He hit him from behind. Mordred is many things, but I never had him pegged as a coward."

Merlin nodded in agreement, mind flashing back to the corridor where the druids had attacked him eariler that day. Arthur was right - Mordred certainly hadn't looked like the type to be easily intimidated.

"I should of come straight back," Arthur continued, either not noticing or choosing to ignore Merlin's private musings. "Then I would have been with him."

Merlin nodded again, completely baffled as to where Arthur monologue was going, but unable to say anything remotely helpful in reply. He was far out of his element here, and he was at a loss at what he could say or do. He didn't want to risk making things worse.

"If I hadn't been stood in the medical bay bickering with you, I would have been there. It wouldn't of happened," Arthur snapped, addressing Merlin directly for the first time in minutes. He was looking at him with increasingly narrowed eyes, cheeks flushed in anger and brow furrowing.

After a moment, Merlin blanched. "Oh, you are not going to blame this on me?"

Arthur blinked slightly and frowned, eyebrows creasing in confusion. "No," he replied, sounding shocked that Merlin had jumped to such a conclusion. "Why would I blame it on you? It's not your fault Morgana ordered me to take you to the medical bay." He clamped his hands onto his temple and shook his head, his voice pained. "_I'm_ the one who should have left straight away!"

"Oh," Merlin mouthed, thrown. Arthur was blaming himself? It was hardly his fault Mordred was a twisted and cowardly psychopath.

There was a brief pause before Arthur let out a frustrated, "Arghh!" and threw himself back onto his bed, pulling on fistfuls of hair and ignoring Merlin's presence there completely. He was inches away from where Merlin was sat cross-legged, flat on his back and hands covering his face, his breath coming out in short, sharp pants - so close Merlin could actually hear them.

He squeaked, but didn't dare move, hoping that if he remained still Arthur wouldn't notice he was there.

"And nobody will tell me anything," the blond muttered, voice muffled behind his hands, sounding so wrecked that for one horrifying moment Merlin thought he was crying.

"That's…horrible," his cellmate replied uncomfortably, starting to shuffle slowly off the bed. He was very aware that he was in Arthur's personal space, so close they could be touching, and honestly, the thought scared him a bit. His _own feelings_ were scaring him a bit.

Before he could move more than a few inches, however, Arthur flung out his arm and grabbed his wrist, causing Merlin's heart to jump into his throat. He pulled Merlin back towards him, keeping him rooted to the spot, all while gazing steadfastly at the ceiling.

"And they said they can't punish Mordred without proof," Arthur continued, obviously still needing someone to rant to and unwilling to let his outlet escape.

Merlin nodded and decided to take Arthur's hint to stay where he was, watching his cellmate's slight breakdown with wide, round eyes. He struggled to find something adequate to say, so settled on the obvious, placing his hand on Arthur's arm comfortingly - his grip soft and hesistant, ready to jump back at the slightest reaction. "I'm sure Lancelot will be ok. And Mordred will get what he deserves…eventually."

The blond let out a disbelieving laugh, before his expression twisted and clouded once more. He looked at the hand squeezing his arm with raised eyebrows, his gaze surprised and almost questioning, causing Merlin to remove it hastily.

"Sorry," he spluttered, just as Arthur grabbed the top of his shirt and pulled him down towards him.

Merlin wasn't able to let out anything other than a small 'oomph', before Arthur's lips collided with his own. He flailed his arms in surprise, momentarily grateful that his cellmate's eyes were closed and unable to see his floundering reaction.

Arthur's lips were just as he'd imagined them, soft and yeilding, opening willingly just as soon as Merlin made to respond. He knew it was a bad idea - his mind was practically screaming at him to stop - but _Arthur_ was kissing him, and it felt so amazing, he just couldn't bring himself to pull away. Unable to refuse such a mouth-watering invitation, Merlin swept his tongue past Arthur's parted lips, delving deeply into his mouth. The blond let out a small contented noise (that seemed strange and uncharacteristic) and responded eagerly, the kisses quickly becoming desperate and sloppy - their tongues meeting in a wet embrace, which caused Merlin to choke in surprise and work to keep his breathing constant.

Arthur's hand swept up his back, pulling him closer, until Merlin was practically on top of him. Their chests were pressed flush against each other, and they could feel each others hearts pounding erratically against their ribcages.

Merlin knew that he would regret it in the morning, but he couldn't bring himself to stop, Arthur's mouth hot and wet against his, his body muscled and warm. He slid his hands over his cellmate's chest with far more confidence than he felt, taking in the tense muscles and golden skin with an delighted moan.

Arthur bucked up to his touch, eager, earnest and oh so responsive.

Unsatisfied with the pace, he grasped at Merlin's shirt, separating their mouths with a small 'pop'. His eyes were bright and gleaming, lips red and bruised, creating an image Merlin knew he would be wanking over for years to come.

He ran his hands through increasingly damp blond hair and heard Arthur purr softly in reply, apparently unable to stop himself, mouth curving into a breathy smile that was so uncharacteristic, Merlin's breath caught in his throat. He let out a desperate moan he instantly wished he could take back and licked his lips, attempting to reconnect their mouths in a kiss.

Arthur however, had other ideas. He turned his head to the side, evading Merlin's mouth and turning his attention back to his clothing. He gave his cellmate's shirt a frantic pull, so Merlin had little choice but to sit up and wriggle quickly out of his top.

But before he could even bring himself to be self-conscious, Arthur's mouth descended down his neck, sucking and nipping at the skin. He'd pulled himself up onto his forearms, slanting his lips over Merlin's collarbone and biting savagely on the bone there.

Merlin jumped, but brought his hands up to Arthur's head, tilting back his neck and holding him in place. It felt strange to be so authoritative, especially with Arthur, but he made no complaint, only pushing himself back onto the bed and bringing Merlin with him.

The angle was awkward and position uncomfortable, but it was not unusual for Merlin, who couldn't remember any of his previous fumblings (not that he'd had many) being anything but extremely awkward. Arthur on the other hand, let out a frustrated moan, his grip tightening on Merlin's arms painfully.

He surged upwards and caught Merlin by surprise, using the quick momentum to flip their positions.

Before Merlin could even blink, he was flat on his back with Arthur above him, lips still connected with the soft curve of his neck.

Merlin let out a small cry of shock, dimly noting that he shouldn't really be so surprised - he hadn't imagined that Arthur would want to relinquish control to anyone, not even in the bedroom.

The new position also meant he had proper access to Arthur's clothing, which he attempted to dispose of as quickly as possible. He'd seen his cellmate's naked skin before (mostly from perving from afar), and he wanted nothing more than to touch it, just like he'd imagined.

The blond seemed to anticipate his needs, for a second later, he sat back up and peeled his shirt swiftly off his body. If Merlin had been breathing at that point, he would of stopped, as the blond was all toned and bronzed above him, ready and willing. The top of his tanned chest was flushed in arousal, his tight muscles flexed with every movement and his hair was in complete disarray, falling about his face in such a mess that it really shouldn't have been so sexy.

Merlin momentarily forgot that Arthur was a man who could probably snap him in half without even breaking a sweat, a man who had stabbed two people, and a man who had slept with everything with a pulse. This was the man that had saved him from Mordred, had refrained from beating him, and who was worried for his friend.

Mind set with a new determination, Merlin pulled the blond back towards him, pressing his naked chest flush against his own. Arthur's eyebrows flew up in surprise, but he didn't resist, allowing his cellmate to explore his chest with tentative fingers, following the trail of hair that led towards his groin.

He bucked his hips, grinding their arousals together and throwing back his head.

Merlin took the gesture as an invitation and brought his mouth to Arthur's neck, licking the salty skin and delving his tongue deep into the hollow of his collarbone. The blond grinned and thrust his hips, only to receive a snap nip of teeth in return.

Arthur jumped and recoiled slightly, expression morphing into anger so quickly Merlin could barely register the change. "No marks," he snapped, causing his cellmate to blink back at him in surprise.

Merlin nodded dutifully, unable to do anything else, but frowned, for Arthur had left marks all over his neck, and yet he wasn't allowed to do the same.

Before he could voice any sort of protest, however, the blond spoke again, tone no longer angry, but disconcertingly impersonal. "Turn over."

Still reeling from the abrupt change in atmosphere, Merlin did as he was told, rolling onto his stomach, where he could feel Arthur's mouth breathing unevenly down his neck. He felt his cellmate's lips kiss his shoulder blade softly and he relaxed once more, although the fact he could no longer see his lover's face was strangely unnerving. He wanted to see Arthur's face when they had sex - contorting in ecstasy, honest and open for the first time. But he was being stupid, because _of course_ the blond would never allow it. He'd never be vulnerable like that.

Confident hands descended the planes of his back, massaging his skin and reigniting his waning arousal. He gave out a throaty moan, unable to stop himself, which caused Arthur to grin gleefully against his neck.

"Lift your hips," he ordered after several minutes, hands tucked suggestively under the waist-band of Merlin's trousers. His voice was still impassive, but considerably more throaty, leading Merlin to believe the blond was just as aroused as he was. The thought sent tingles down his spine and he responded instantly, feeling Arthur begin to wriggle his pants slowly down his hips.

He felt the cold air hit his ass and he winced, just as Arthur's teeth snapped at the skin.

"You just bit me!" Merlin cried, sounding completely breathless, even to his own ears.

"So I did," Arthur replied, sounding amused.

He smoothed his hands over the newly exposed skin to quiet Merlin's protests, caressing the inside of his thighs and curve of his ass. After a moment of exploration, his fingers dipped experimentally into the tight ring of muscle, causing Merlin to buck violently, let out a cry and fist the bedcovers in his quaking hands.

"You've done this before, yes?" Arthur asked casually, pushing a finger fully inside.

"Uh-hmm…" Merlin moaned, which was about as much confirmation as the blond was going to get. He had done it before, a few times in fact, but had never particularly enjoyed the whole thing. But then again, he'd never been as aroused as he was with Arthur, cock already throbbing and leaking with pre-cum.

"Good," the blond replied, pressing his chest against Merlin's back and pumping his finger. "Because I hate going slow."

Merlin was glad his face was pressed against the bedcovers and his voice muffled, because the groan he gave in response was rather embarrassing. He bucked his hips up from the bed and impaled himself further on Arthur's finger, one thrust away from fucking himself on his cellmate's hand.

Arthur let out a long breath against his shoulder, evidently aroused by his eagerness. He rewarded him by inserting another finger, using them to scissor Merlin's tight muscle further apart.

Merlin rocked back against his hand and grinded his cock into the bed for double the sensation. His breath was harsh and erratic, sweat dripping off his back and down his forehead. He felt the pleasure tightening in the pit of his stomach and quickened his pace, knowing that it was soon going to be over before it had even really begun, but unable to bring himself to care.

Arthur however, seemed to have realised the same thing. He was grinding himself rhythmically against Merlin's back as he thrust his fingers, before he cursed and stopped abruptly. He pressed a wet kiss against Merlin's neck and removed his hand, causing his cellmate to groan pathetically in response, only seconds away from release.

"Not yet," Arthur commanded, as though Merlin could stop himself climaxing.

Merlin could hear the shuffle of clothes behind him and knew that the blond must have been shedding his pants, but he couldn't quite bring himself to raise his head. He waited for his cellmate's comforting warmth to press back against him, and it became immediately obvious that the blond was very naked, and very, very hard. There was a small ripping sound, and then a condom wrapper floated past Merlin's head, as he dimly wondered where Arthur had got them from, and whether to be jealous that the blond was so obviously prepared.

"You're going to have to get up for this," Arthur breathed, clutching at Merlin's hips and attempting to drag them upwards.

He complied with difficulty, raising himself up on his knees and shaking arms, bracing himself on all fours. He hung his head weakly, feeling Arthur's naked skin pressed against his sweaty back, and his arousal pushed against the cleft of his ass. Unable to form any coherent words, he merely wiggled his hips, signalling to Arthur what he wanted.

The blond squeezed his hips in response, lining his cock with Merlin's ass and pushing slowly inside.

Merlin let out a small 'oh', the thrust throwing him forward slightly, thighs trembling and body jerking.

Suddenly he remembered why he hadn't ever enjoyed anal sex in the past. It felt alien and uncomfortable, as though his body was being forced to do things it really wasn't capable of. He fought to keep himself from collapsing in a heap, feeling Arthur impale himself fully to the hilt, until his thighs were pressed tightly against his ass.

The blond stopped as soon as he was fully inside, his hands gripping painfully at Merlin's hips. "Fuck," he choked, breathing ragged against Merlin's neck, his damp hair sticking to the other man's spine.

Merlin felt his body slowly adjusting and let out a small sigh of relief, finding the feeling of Arthur so deep inside him quite intimate and not altogether unpleasant, just as long as he wasn't moving.

But inevitably, Arthur slowly began to thrust, drawing himself back out and pounding back in. Merlin choked back a cry and leaned back on the blond for support, feeling his lips brush softly against his neck.

It took a few minutes, but Merlin soon found himself moving automatically with his cellmate's rhythm, pushing him deeper inside, finding a spot that made him tremble uncontrollably.

He moaned instinctively, and found himself muttering, "More."

He wasn't even sure why he wanted more. It was still mostly painful and invasive, just like he remembered, but he still found himself rocking eagerly back against Arthur's thrusts, wanting it harder, faster and deeper.

And Arthur seemed to be all to eager to comply; when he said he didn't like going slow, he hadn't been joking. He was pounding into Merlin's ass without restraint, using one hand to brace them against the headboard and the other to keep Merlin's slackened body in place. His breathing was coming out in short pants and his body was slick with sweat. He evidently wasn't far from his own release.

Wanting them to come together, he brought his hand from Merlin's hip to his cock and grasped it firmly. Merlin bucked instinctively, letting out a groan as he felt the addictive burn mingle with bursts of pleasure. His stomach tightened and he felt it coming only a second before it happened, his climax exploding behind his eyes and over his cellmate's hand.

His muscles contracted around Arthur's cock, causing the blond groan loudly and bite Merlin's neck, bringing him to his own release, deep inside his cellmate's body.

Merlin went slack against Arthur's chest, riding out his blinding orgasm and unable to stop himself collapsing; the blond let him fall, boneless and exhausted onto the bed.

He was covered in sweat and cum but just couldn't find the energy to move, only vaguely registering Arthur's collapse beside him. He shuffled back into the warm body weakly, letting out a contented sigh as he felt Arthur's laboured breath on the back of his neck.

They led there for a number of minutes, the cell growing dark around them, their breathing evening and bodies cooling. Merlin was so shattered he found his eyes drifting shut, his limbs heavy and heart thumping, slowly returning to its normal speed. But just as soon as he was slipping slowly off into unconsciousness, he felt Arthur shift, climbing over him and out of the bed.

Merlin's eyes snapped back open, but he remained still and silent, watching Arthur's figure moving in the dark.

The blond got to his feet and moved towards the stairs of the bunk, climbing up onto Merlin's bed and laying on top of it.

Merlin lay blinking in Arthur's bed, feeling his heart sink swiftly through the floor. He knew that he shouldn't of expected anything less, but he felt disappointed nevertheless. The post-orgasm high he'd been experiencing quickly melted away, leaving him feeling hurt and strangely confused.

He heard Arthur shifting above him and tried to will himself asleep, but his mind was wide awake now, turning the evening's activities over in his head. He listened to his cellmate's uneven breathing and knew he wasn't asleep either, but the thought brought him little comfort.

He buried his head in a pillow that smelt of sweat and sex, and tried to wipe all thoughts of Arthur from his mind.

He wasn't very successful.

* * *

><p>"You have to help me!" Merlin cried the next morning, flinging himself down at the cafeteria table without actually getting any breakfast. He was in full-on crisis mode, desperate enough that he was actually going to <em>Will<em> for help - useless though he may be.

Will raised his eyebrows but carried on eating, replying through a mouthful of Frosties. "Where were you yesterday evening?" he asked, ignoring Merlin's plea completely.

"Don't even get me started," Merlin moaned, banging his head on the table, and hoping that he could just knock himself out. He deserved it, for being so blindingly naive. "I'm such an idiot!"

His friend nodded and said nothing, obviously in complete agreement, which did nothing to help Merlin's mood.

He glared.

"What?" Will yelped after an uncomfortable moment, looking thrown by his friend's dark mood and black stare. He waved his hands up in the air and fixed his friend with both innocent and accusing eyes. "Don't blame whatever's happened with Arthur on me!"

Merlin blinked, thrown, and croaked, "How'd you know this is about Arthur?"

"Because you've got Blondie on the brain," Will replied with a grin, shrugging his shoulders in a 'I'm so clever' sort of way. "You have since you arrived."

"I haven't…" Merlin protested, before dribbling off pathetically, recognising a lost argument. After what had happened the previous night, there was little point in denying it now.

"So, what happened?" Will asked tiredly, licking his spoon, his tone positively long-suffering.

"We…." Merlin paused, unsure of what to say. He wasn't particularly keen on telling Will what had happened, but didn't know what else to do. Maybe his friend would be able to shed some light on the situation and give some helpful advice. He didn't think he'd be able to stand his current situation with Arthur for much longer, especially if it continued in the same way as it had that morning, silent and embarrassingly awkward. "I had sex with Arthur."

Will blanched, throwing down his spoon and giving him a gleeful grin. "Well, finally!" he cried, clapping his hands together and looking worryingly interested. "How was it?"

"Good," Merlin muttered, while trying to push images of the previous night out of his mind. The last thing he needed to do was start daydreaming about it. Arthur had made it clear where he stood, when he'd got up and walked away.

"Hand-job or blowjob?"

Merlin gave Will an exasperated look, but had grown unsurprised by his friend's crude questioning. "Neither," he admitted quietly, as Will frowned in confusion. "We had sex."

"Like, actual sex?" Will said, looking surprisingly serious.

Merlin nodded slowly, and already dreading the answer, asked, "Uh, yeah….Why?"

"That's unusual for Arthur, that's why," his friend replied, turning in his seat to give the blond a searching look. "He must like the look of you."

Arthur was sat in his usual seat on the other side of the cafeteria, head bent and expression impassive, Lancelot's empty seat beside him glaringly noticeable. Even his usual posse appeared to be particularly on edge, all glaring in the druids direction and not speaking to each other.

Merlin heart jumped at the sight of the blond, so he looked back down, pushing the images of him gloriously naked from his mind.

"I take it he was top?" Will asked in his usual bluntness, causing Merlin to blush bright red and duck his head.

"Yeah."

"I was going to say…" his friend continued, raising his eyebrows. "If he was bottom, that would be unheard of."

Merlin let out a desperate cry and buried his head in his hands, glaring at the tabletop.

Will stared at him in confusion. "I don't know why you're so upset. You said it was good."

"I don't even know why I did it! I don't even like him half the time! But he was looking so broody and upset…and then he kissed me, and I just couldn't…I couldn't help myself!" Merlin spluttered, attempting to explain himself, even if it didn't quite make sense in his own mind. He wasn't even sure why he'd done it - apart from the fact that he was attracted to Arthur, and he'd wanted to. It was as simple as that.

"Nothing wrong with that," Will remarked. "Have your cake and eat it, my friend."

"But now he's ignoring me again!"

Will sighed, rolling his eyes. "Well, I did warn you! It's a one time thing with Arthur. What were you expecting? You'd have sex and then he'd be your boyfriend?"

Merlin said nothing.

"You did?" Will gasped, looking thoroughly exasperated.

"No," Merlin replied immediately, shaking his head and widening his eyes. "I'm not stupid. But maybe a part of me wanted that. I don't know. He's a prat. But I'm attracted to him. I know I'm an idiot."

"Yeah," Will nodded, picking up his bowl and emptying the milk into his mouth. "But now it's over with, you can forget it and get on with things. Isn't that what you wanted?"

Merlin gave a reluctant nod, but knew it was hardly going to be something he'd easily forget. He got to his feet and slunk over to the breakfast bar, for the first time since his arrival, feeling thoroughly miserable.

TBC...

* * *

><p><em><strong>AN** Lol, so this chapter was pretty much 4000 words of porn. The Lancelot thing still hasn't been addressed, neither has Mordred, but sexitimes makes up for it, RIGHT? XD_

_I hope it didn't seem too soon, or too random! Well, it was supposed to seem a bit random, cos it was a spare of the moment kind of thing, but you get my point...And I'm just going to be quiet now._

_Hours to write, and only minutes to review, so please R&R! I want to hear what you think! :)_


	6. Back to Reality

**Disclaimer: **I am poor, I own nothing, blah blah blah

**WARNINGS**: Sexual situations/encounters, SLASH, language. PLEASE TAKE NOTE OF M RATING.

**IMPORTANT NOTE** - Sorry for the delay in updating, but I went into hospital for an operation a couple of weeks ago (for nothing life-threatening), and have obviously not been feeling all that great since I was discharged. I did write on my profile that the update would be late, so if in doubt in the future check out my page. If I know I won't be able to update for a while, I will write it there. Updates might be slower now, because I'm not in full health, and it depends on how I am feeling. You've been warned, and thanks very much for your patience! :)

**A/N**_ Before I get on with the fic, there are a couple of questions people have asked that I'd like to address._

_1) There have been a few people that have asked about Merlin's skills in this fic. I've stated before that he has no magic, but he won't be entirely useless. A lot of this fic is about him finding his feet (and his strength) and he definitely will in the chapters coming up. Soon Arthur will need him._

_2) In reply to HELEN, I can't tell you what Merlin is in prison for, because it's a big part of the story later. Sorry! The answer will be revealed eventually though! ;)_

* * *

><p><strong>Cellmate - Chapter 6<strong>

**Back to Reality**

It had been two days since Merlin and Arthur had finally had sex, and the night was never far from Merlin's mind. Try as he might, he just couldn't put the experience behind him. Something wasn't right, something didn't fit, and he wanted to know why.

Arthur had never shown sexual interest in him before that night, except perhaps for his half-hearted proposition weeks before, and Merlin was beginning to question the motivations behind his cellmate's abrupt change of heart. The blond had obviously been distressed by Lancelot's attack, and Merlin had been easy and convenient - an outlet to his worry and anger. The thought upset Merlin more than he'd care to admit, and he wasn't sure why. He barely liked Arthur most the time - why should he care?

But sometimes - before he'd catch himself - he'd reminisce over the way Arthur's skin had felt against his and the way his hair had smelt of smoke and sandalwood. He knew it was stupid, but he found himself growing increasingly obsessed, fascinated by the way Arthur's twisted mind worked.

His maddening bi-polar, multifaceted personality was so frustrating and difficult to figure out, Merlin was beginning to regard cracking his cellmate's hard exterior as a personal challenge. He knew from what Gwen had told him that Arthur wasn't necessarily an evil person, and for the first time - during the night Lancelot had been injured - Merlin had believed her. He'd actually seen the blond as a real person with genuine feelings, rather than a battle-hardened robot intent on making him feel as uncomfortable and inadequate as possible.

But it was strange - Merlin had never felt so conflicted over someone before. Never had he hated someone and liked them so much at the same time. He blamed his hormones entirely.

His obvious growing obsession with Arthur and his unwillingness to let the whole thing go, however, was beginning to put strain on his other relationships. Will for example, was in absolute despair. After telling Merlin not so subtly to pull himself together and stop pining, he had taken to snapping his fingers in front of his friend's face every time he started to daydream.

"Stop it! Arthur does not have any other levels. He is a criminal, Merlin. He is not any more complicated than that. I don't know what you're looking for, but whatever it is, it's not there. You had sex once - that's it! Get over it!" Will had taken to telling him, as though trying to bring him back to reality and remind him that Arthur was cruel and untrustworthy.

But he needn't of bothered. Merlin had not forgotten Arthur's dismissal after they'd slept together, and it still hurt to think about it. He may have taken to admiring the blond from afar, but he certainly wasn't talking to him.

Since that night Arthur had tried to slip back into their previous routine - consisting mostly of snippy banter and half-assed threats - but Merlin rarely responded. Their strained interactions were making him feel uneasy and he was beginning to wonder what the blond truly wanted from him, now that the sex was over with. He wasn't sure Arthur even knew, for he was distant, then friendly, then snappy, and Merlin was beginning to get whiplash from his increasingly erratic behavior.

His mood seemed to rapidly decline the longer Lancelot's absence continued, whether because he genuinely missed him, or because he lacked sex, was anybodies guess. His mood was so foul that even the druids were giving him a wide berth, except perhaps Mordred, whose lingering and silent presence only seemed to aggravate Arthur further.

But whatever the reasoning, something had to change soon, because Merlin didn't think he could handle the tense atmosphere for one day longer.

* * *

><p>Dragging himself out of bed the next morning, Merlin sighed, running a hand through his bed hair. He descended the ladder of the bunk and staggered to his feet, trying to shake of his brain's early-morning fogginess.<p>

Arthur was still in bed but evidently wide awake, watching his cellmate through slightly hooded eyes. Merlin avoided his gaze and turned to get dressed. He could feel Arthur's now familiar glare on the back of his head and chose to ignore it, attempting instead to appear as cool and nonchalant as possible.

All pretence was lost however, when the blond started to speak.

"You know, if I'd of known you were going to be such a prissy bitch afterwards, I would never of had sex with you," Arthur informed him, voice bland and twinged with sleep.

Merlin started and spun on a heel, almost spluttering with indignation. "Excuse me?" he cried.

"I said - "

"I know what you said!" he all but squawked, seconds away from snatching Arthur's pillow and beating him over the head with it. "I am not a prissy bitch!"

"No," Arthur said sarcastically, "You're handling this with real dignity and grace."

Merlin let out a huff, but could hardly argue the point; neither dignity nor grace were one of his more prominent characteristics. "Well, I'm sorry I don't meet your standards, your majesty! Not all of us are unfeeling bastards!"

Rather than threaten Merlin for being so disrespectful, Arthur sat up in bed and regarded him with a confused expression. "I thought you understood, Emrys - everyone else does. What happened…well, it's just what I do."

"Yeah, well, it's not what I do," Merlin snapped, dragging on a shirt and storming out the cell, leaving Arthur blinking blearily behind him.

He charged down to breakfast intent on ranting and raving, only to be disappointed when he realised he was so early Will had not yet arrived. He trudged to the breakfast queue feeling suddenly downtrodden, approaching the counter and regarding the watery porridge with distaste.

"Do you have anything else?" he asked the prisoner serving, wrinkling his nose. After having porridge every morning for the last few weeks, he swore he was beginning to develop an allergy towards it, which only succeeded in souring his mood further.

The server stared at him, regarding Merlin with such astonishment it was as though he'd just dropped out the sky. He was broad and stocky, with dark hair and a heavy brow. "Sausages, bacon and beans. As usual," he replied, in short clipped sentences that left little room for argument.

"I'm a vegetarian," Merlin pointed out.

"So, have beans," the server responded, sounding distinctly unimpressed. "Or porridge."

Merlin sighed and held out his tray. "I'll have porridge then, shall I?"

The server gave him a smug smile. "Good choice," he said, picking up a very heavy ladle and spooning the porridge into his tray with far more force than was necessary.

Merlin frowned but said nothing, slinking over to his usual table and sitting down, wanting nothing more than to dump his tray on somebodies head. Preferably Arthur's.

Will joined him a few minutes later.

"So, in a good mood yet?" he asked, dipping an experimental finger into his own porridge and putting it into his mouth. He looked at Merlin carefully. "No? Didn't think so."

"The server wouldn't let me have anything but porridge," Merlin said, in a rather mournful voice.

"That's…really tragic," Will responded hesitantly, looking as though he wasn't sure whether to laugh or look sympathetic. Instead he took a stab at changing the subject, obviously eager to keep Merlin distracted and the conversation going. "So, are you going to be showering anytime soon?"

Merlin blinked. "What?"

Will rolled his eyes. "Are you going to shower? You haven't in two days. I couldn't help but notice."

Merlin opened his mouth and floundered for a few minutes, looking down at the table. He'd avoided the showers since his night with Arthur, mostly because he still had marks all over his body and was unwilling to flash them to everyone. It would confirm his involvement with Arthur to Mordred, and probably result in a lot of abuse from other prisoners. But it had been two days, the marks had not yet faded, and he was beginning to smell; he feared he was just going to have to suck it up and take a wash.

"Yeah, I'm going to shower," Merlin admitted, causing Will to give him a smile. He shifted uncomfortably and looked around the cafeteria, just imagining the other prisoners reaction to his marks. He couldn't let them see, not if he wanted to get out this place alive. "I'll go in a minute, before everyone's finished breakfast."

Spurred on by the thought, he devoured his porridge with new gusto. He all but polished his plate and clapped his hands together, rising from his seat.

"Let's go, shall we?" he said, realising that if he was going to make it through showering without getting molested, he'd have to do it now. He grabbed Will's shirt sleeve and tugged him to his feet, marching him quickly out of the cafeteria. "Come on."

Will looked bemused by his words, but didn't say anything, seemingly still half-asleep. He let Merlin lead him to the shower rooms without even complaining, forehead creased blearily. It was only when they entered the changing rooms that he commented, bewildered by Merlin's change of mood.

"Christ, I don't think I've ever been this early for a shower before," he said, looking around the almost deserted changing rooms. "Any particular reason you're in such a rush?"

Merlin stripped off his shirt, turned into the corner, and flapped his arms around his chest. "Look," he exclaimed, gesturing to the various marks discolouring his skin.

"Oh," Will mouthed, staring with far more scrutiny than Merlin was entirely comfortable with. "Wow, Arthur really went for it, didn't he?"

Merlin glared.

"No wonder you wanted to hide them," his friend continued hastily, quickly brushing over his mention of Arthur. "If the other prisoners saw, well, the words 'Prison Bitch' come to mind."

Merlin closed his eyes and groaned, running a nervous hand through his hair. "Worse than that, Mordred would assume I'm sleeping with Arthur."

Will eyed his speculatively, and shrugged. "But…you are?"

"No," Merlin argued, flushing at the very thought, either from anger or embarrassment, he wasn't sure. "I'm not. I did ONCE. As you've pointed out numerous times. But if Mordred still thinks I'm in some sort of relationship with him, he might attack me again; look what happened to Lancelot."

"Well, I suggest you hurry up then," Will prompted, conceding the point and waving an arm in the direction of the showers. "Before everyone comes in from breakfast."

Merlin wrapped a towel around his waist and shed his trousers, avoiding Will's searching gaze. He was just beginning to fold his clothes when the changing room doors opened again, and more prisoners began to enter.

Cheeks reddening, he all but dived into the shower room - before his friend had so much as removed his shirt.

Unfortunately, he almost ran straight into the very two people he had wanted to avoid: Arthur, and Mordred.

He froze, silently cursing, and fought the urge to turn on a heel and run.

Merlin could see Arthur's back directly in front of him, long, lean and golden, even through the mist. He was stood opposite a ghostly looking Mordred, whose hair was black with moisture, his bright blue eyes almost the only parts of him visible against the whiteness of the steam. The druid spotted Merlin immediately, lip curling in distaste, but he said nothing. Arthur, facing the other way, did not. Merlin didn't know whether that was a good thing.

"Well, what a surprise, seeing you here," Mordred said after a strained silence, his gaze leaving Merlin and returning to the blond in front of him. His voice was low and level, bored even, but it still sent shivers down Merlin's spine.

"I knew you'd be here early and I wanted to talk," Arthur said, sounding by contrast rather like he wanted to punch Mordred in the face. His shoulders were steeled and tense, muscles contorting from the effort to stop himself leaping on the druid.

"Interesting choice of setting," Mordred said. "Where there's conveniently no guards."

Arthur scowled. "There are other prisoners. They'll arrive soon, but don't worry, this won't take long."

Mordred's gaze flickered to Merlin, but the blond appeared not to notice. "Yes, they will," he replied, rising his shoulders in something vaguely resembling a shrug. "So, I suggest you get on with whatever you wanted to say."

Arthur's hands curled into fists and he approached Mordred with a deliberate slowness, looking very much like a predator cornering his prey. The druid however, looked anything but intimidated. He watched Arthur's advance with bright blank eyes, posture relaxed and limbs unmoving.

"If you attack anyone I care about again, you will sincerely regret it," the blond hissed, so quietly Merlin could barely hear him.

A moment later he surged forwards, pushing Mordred up against the opposite wall.

Merlin inhaled a lungful of air, knowing he should leave while he still could, but unable to get his legs to process his brain's commands.

Arthur was now inches away from Mordred's face, arms braced on either side of him to prevent an escape.

"Oh, but Merlin was so much fun," Mordred deadpanned, expression steely.

The blond blinked, for a brief moment looking consorted, eyebrows creasing. "He's not who I meant - he's just my cellmate," he snapped.

Merlin flinched, unable to stop himself, and began to back slowly out the door again. It's not as though he was expecting anything less - especially after Arthur's recent treatment of him - but hearing it out loud was something he could have done without.

"Just your cellmate?" Mordred questioned coolly, looking over Arthur's shoulder and down at Merlin's chest. "Because he looks pretty ravished to me."

Arthur let out a low growl and raised his fist, a second away from propelling it into the druid's face.

But unfortunately, at that very moment, a loud shrill of, "_Merlin_!" interrupted the proceedings.

Will entered the room with a bang, finally undressed, all while calling for his friend at the top of his voice.

Everyone jumped.

Arthur in particular, was taken by surprise. He started and looked up, giving Mordred the brief opportunity he needed. Moving faster than Merlin's eyes could follow, the druid whipped himself out of Arthur's grasp and grabbed for the side of his face. Eyes glinting, he pushed forwards, and smacked Arthur's head _hard_ against the white tiled wall.

Arthur's golden head collided with the wall with a sickening crunch, causing Merlin to leap back in horror, his heart shooting straight into his throat.

The blond slumped unconscious to the ground, head lolling, just as Will came up beside his friend, his mouth open and expression gaping.

Mordred looked down at Arthur's motionless form with polite disinterest, head lightly cocked. He paused for a moment before gliding forwards. Merlin and Will both froze instinctively, but the druid merely breezed straight past them and out the door, letting it swing shut behind him.

There was a stunned pause, before Will let out a choked breath, and managed a croaky, "_What the fuck_?"

Merlin ignored him and rushed over to Arthur's crumpled body, feet sliding dangerously over the slippery wet floor. He collapsed on his knees next to his cellmate and ran a hand through his messy damp hair, finding a small trickle of blood on his fingertips.

"Is he ok?" Will asked hesitantly, just as the door opened and three more prisoners walked in.

"I think so," Merlin replied, letting out a small sigh of relief, because Arthur was still breathing, and as far as he was considered, that was _good_. "I think he was just knocked out, but he needs to see Gwen."

One of the prisoners who had just arrived nodded, turning to head straight back out the door. "I'll alert someone," he announced, disappearing a moment later.

"What happened?" another asked, surveying Arthur's body in complete bewilderment, just as more shuffled through the door, eager to see the commotion.

"Fight between Arthur and Mordred," Merlin replied, by way of explanation.

"Yeah," the prisoner nodded, looking unsurprised. "That'll do it."

* * *

><p>It was three hours later and Merlin was back in his room, having helped escort an unconscious Arthur to the medical bay. Gwen had confirmed his cellmate's injuries as severe concussion, but was <em>still<em> treating him, as he hadn't yet returned to the cell.

Merlin was waiting restlessly for his reappearance, if only to confirm to himself that Arthur was alright, considering he'd still been out cold when he'd left the medical bay. It had been rare and rather unnerving to see someone so _formidable_ in in such a state. It was scary to think Mordred was capable of reducing him to a crumbled heap, and without it seemed, very much effort.

Before Merlin to work himself up into another state of panic, however, the cell door finally opened, and revealed a very haggard looking Arthur.

His head was wrapped in a small thin bandage, causing his hair to stick up in messy tuffs. He was stumbling slightly, deep bags under his eyes and clothes rumpled. If Merlin didn't know better, he'd have thought he was drunk.

"Are you ok?" he asked, watching the blond walk straight past him - in a stumbling sort of zig-zag - and collapse on top of his bed, bouncing slightly with the momentum.

"Hmm," Arthur replied, looking up at him through dazed eyes, as though he'd never seen him before. He was pale, paler than Merlin had ever seen him, a sheen of sweat was shining on his forehead.

Merlin frowned and drew closer, hovering over the bed. "Is that a yes?"

Arthur's brow furrowed, but he nodded. "Yeah…"

"Is your head ok?"

"Yeah…"

"Are you sure? You look strange," Merlin muttered, narrowing his eyes, surprised that the blond hadn't yet snapped at him. He drew in closer, trying to pinpoint his uncertainty, but the blond waved a lazy hand, attempting to bat him away.

"I'm feeling the effects of the drugs…I guess," he admitted after a moment, eyelashes fluttering.

Merlin's eyebrows shot into his hairline. What on _earth_ did Gwen give him? Maybe it was the concussion. "Did Gwen give you some?"

"Yeah, but they didn't work very well," the blond explained, head lolling back against the pillows, "So I had to get some more."

Merlin paused, and his stomach sunk slightly, because he really didn't like where this whole conversation was going. "What do you mean?" he asked warily.

Arthur licked his lips and shrugged a bit, looking like he very much wanted to go to sleep, and really didn't want to deal with Merlin. "Well, it still hurt after Gwen gave me the painkillers," he explained, in a familiar long-suffering tone, although his words were slightly more slurred than usual. His eyes fluttering closed. "So…I-I went to Gaius for a bit of pain relief."

Merlin frowned. "Who's Gaius?"

"The prison drug dealer."

Merlin really should have been expecting it, but his mouth dropped open regardless. "Y-you went to the prison drug dealer?" he choked, sounding deadly calm.

"Hmm," came Arthur's sleepy reply, which Merlin assumed to mean 'yes'.

"A DRUG DEALER?" he cried, causing the blond to jerk upwards and blink blearily in surprise.

"Yeah…?" Arthur replied, looking completely bewildered, and now Merlin thought about it, completely spaced-out.

The dark-haired took a deep breath and attempted to gain control of himself, determined to explain the dangers to his apparently oblivious cellmate. "You mixed drugs…?" he continued, willing for Arthur to get the point and recognize his logic. But unfortunately, the blond appeared too dazed to do either.

In fact, the blond was practically asleep, muttering a very confused, "Yeah…?"

"You can't mix drugs!" Merlin cried, knowing it was falling on deaf ears but unable to stop himself. Did Arthur not care about his own health at all? He was supposed to be intelligent! Wasn't he a criminal mastermind or something?

"Well, the painkillers Gwen gave me didn't seem to be working, so I went to Gauis instead," Arthur explained, in a tone that suggested the answer was obvious, his head dropping back onto his pillows. "Then they all seemed to kick in at once."

Merlin surveyed his cellmate's slumped form and pursed his lips. "Obviously," he sniped.

Arthur's mouthed quirked but he said nothing more, apparently drifting straight to sleep. That or drug induced coma, Merlin wasn't sure.

"What did you take?" he questioned, shaking his cellmate's shoulder in order to regain his attention.

But the blond merely shrugged. "I dunno," he mumbled, unhelpfully, "Can't remember."

Merlin gritted his teeth. "Try harder."

"You're cute when you're all bossy," Arthur informed him, letting out a low chuckle and causing Merlin's heart to rocket into his throat. "But…I still can't remember."

"Arthur, it's important - you could have overdosed," Merlin said, shaking off the chills over his cellmate's unwitting flattery. Now was not the time to melt into a puddle of goo just because Arthur had actually complimented him; it was probably just the drugs messing with his mind.

"Don't be stupid," Arthur slurred. Apparently, even when drugged, he still thought Merlin was an idiot. It wasn't an encouraging thought. "I've done this before. I felt weird before, but I'm ok now. Just sleepy….And my head doesn't hurt anymore."

Merlin let out a sigh of exasperation, resisting the urge to smack his own head against the wall. "Well, that's ok then," he said sarcastically.

Arthur smiled, looking so blissed-out and dreamy that Merlin could barely contain the urge to either kiss him, or smack him upside the head. Until he ruined the moment. "If I could, I'd hit you," he mused.

Merlin rolled his eyes, actually relieved, because that sounded more like Arthur. "Well, at least you're still feeling like yourself then."

"Hmm," the blond agreed, without opening his eyes. Merlin watched him doze for a few moments, before Arthur interrupted his reverie. "Stop hovering," he muttered. Although his words were well within character, his voice lacked its usual bite, causing Merlin to frown in thinly concealed concern.

"Do you take drugs from Gaius often?" he asked, surprised at himself for daring to ask the blond such a personal question. But Arthur appeared to be so spaced-out, he was no longer his usual sharp defensive self; he merely gave Merlin a small smile, breathing soft and shallow.

"Dunno. Like every six months," he answered quietly, expression disconcertingly at ease. "I usually take them when I don't want to feel so…_unhappy_."

Merlin blinked, startled by the disarmingly honest admission. He took in a deep breath and prodded further, hoping the drugs had mellowed Arthur out enough that he wouldn't receive a punch. "Are you…unhappy now?" he questioned softly, praying the blond would not fly into an all too familiar rage.

Surprisingly, he didn't. His eyes remained closed and he spoke casually, as though talking about the weather. "Lancelot was attacked because of me. I miss him. Or I did. I don't feel much of anything at the moment."

"What do you mean?"

Arthur took in a deep breath, as though preparing himself for a long explanation. "The drugs. It's strange - like I have no control of my body."

"Or your mouth," Merlin replied instinctively, because he had no other way to reply to such a sentence. He was way out of his depth where Arthur was concerned, desperately floundering for something meaningful or at least remotely helpful to say. As per usual, he came up with nothing.

Arthur however, took Merlin's silence as a cue to continue talking.

"Now that Lancelot's gone, we should have sex again," he announced, in a casual tone, so random and out of the blue that Merlin could do nothing but splutter in response.

"_What?_"

"Keep up, Merlin," the blond said in an almost normal drawl, "I said -"

"I know what you said!" he exclaimed, flapping his arms, feeling a headache coming on. "But…you only have sex with people once. Apparently." He shook his head in confusion, suddenly wondering whether they'd got their wires crossed somewhere along the way. Or whether Will had been wrong from the start - something that would come of little surprise, if Merlin was honest.

"Not if I like them," Arthur replied, still dozing happily against his pillow, despite the obvious stroke he was giving the man next to him.

"Y-you like me?" Merlin cried, so shocked his voice had raised by several octaves. And despite his best efforts, he was unable to keep a small glimmer of hope from seeping into his words. He wanted to kick himself for his own stupidity.

"Not really," the blond responded, sounding so brutally honest that Merlin came crashing straight back down to earth. "You're cute, in a weird sort of way, but you really get on my nerves."

Merlin scowled, but Arthur merely gave him an amused sort of look, turning to grin happily up at the ceiling.

"Then why do you want to have sex again?" Merlin pressed.

Arthur's mouth contorted into a cheeky smile, eyes flickering open as he leant up on his forearms. "I dunno," he grinned lazily, leaning towards Merlin's body, head cocked and eyelashes fluttering. "You treat me…like a real person." Arthur's mouth descended on the curve of Merlin's neck, his words breathy against his cellmate's heaving throat. "There's just something about you."

Merlin's chest contracted, but he was frozen in place, unable to do anything but let the blond lay wet kisses across his skin. He knew it was a bad idea, just as he did the first time, but Arthur's words were soft and coaxing, reducing him to a bumbling quivering wreck. His mind was screaming at him to _move_, to push him off, but his limbs were not cooperating.

"Something about me?" he questioned shakily, causing the blond to pause. "Something you can't quite put your finger on?"

Arthur's gaze flicked up to Merlin's face and he nodded, seemingly pleased that his cellmate had understood him. "Yes, exactly," he responded, voice so low and gravely that it sent shivers down Merlin's spine.

"I know how that feels," he choked, gazing up at the ceiling and attempting to regain control of himself. It was exactly how he felt about Arthur.

The blond slipped his fingers under Merlin's shirt and smiled, stroking his stomach lightly. "And how does this feel?" he murmured, before palming his cellmate's already hardening erection.

Merlin gasped, and he jerked, making to move away. "Look Arthur, we can't do this," he hissed, panicked now. He couldn't do this again, especially with Arthur in such a state. "You've managed to drug yourself - I'd be taking advantage of you."

The blond stilled his movements, eyebrow raised, and he croaked, "You mean, like how I took advantage of you when you were comforting me about Lancelot?"

Merlin's gaze flitted away, the reminder sending a sharp jolt down to his stomach. But although he was still hurt by the encounter, he couldn't deny that he'd wanted Arthur just as much, if not more, than the blond had wanted him.

"I wanted it," he finally admitted, face flushing.

"And I want this," Arthur countered, undoing Merlin's zipper and slipping a hand into his boxers, stroking his erection. He grinned, wide and slightly lopsided. His eyes were glazed. "And it seems you do to."

Merlin let out a low moan, unable to deny it. He sank back into the pillows and raised his legs, allowing the blond to shimmy his trousers down his hips, exposing his cock to Arthur's hungry gaze.

"What are -? " Merlin broke off as his cellmate's mouth descended on his erection, taking him deep down his contracting throat. Merlin arched off the bed and bucked his hips, fisting locks of bright blond hair tightly, unable to prevent a ragged cry from escaping his throat.

Arthur chuckled at the sound, muscles vibrating around Merlin's cock. He sucked hard, bringing his mouth all the way to the base, rubbing his own erection against Merlin's leg with increasing intensity.

It didn't take long for Merlin to tense, thighs shaking, as he came down Arthur's throat. The blond swallowed his cum, letting him ride out his orgasm, while bringing himself quickly to his own release. He shuddered against Merlin's thighs, letting out a moan around his cellmate's softening cock and collapsing on top of his body.

Merlin blinked away the grogginess of his orgasm, tilting his head to look down at Arthur's slumped form. The blond had a hand pressed against his head, chest heaving, looking more dazed than he had before, as though he wasn't sure what had just happened.

Merlin waited, certain that the blond would soon desert him, but he appeared unable to do anything. They led in silence for a few minutes, Arthur's breath slowly evening. He looked so peaceful and still that Merlin almost thought he was asleep, until his reddened mouth opened, drowsily addressing the ceiling.

"What happened to Mordred?" the blond questioned, for the first time in the whole conversation, sounding somewhat interested. Like he had some wits about him again. "For injuring me?"

Merlin sighed. "Nothing. Claimed it was self-defence. And technically, you did try to hit him first."

Arthur let out a small huff, but appeared completely unable to show any greater display of anger. He merely turned his head, away from Merlin and towards the wall, apparently settling down to sleep. It was only when he spoke again, voice low and quiet, that Merlin realised he was still conscious.

"I hate him," the blond admitted into the darkness, drifting slowly off to sleep. "More than anything."

TBC...

* * *

><p><strong>AN** _Took forever to update, and I don't even like this chapter. At all. FAIL._

_And as for the drugs, my own experience with them is pretty much limited to hash brownies in Amsterdam, which isn't really the same thing. But I hope it worked. Something was required to loosen Arthur up. :S And shout-out to Gaius! He's not going to be in the story, but he deserved a mention. Next chapter: Lancelot's back!_

_Anyway, do the poor invalid patient a favor (that's me) and please R&R! Hours to write, minutes to review! :)_


	7. Use and Abuse

Disclaimer: I own nothing etc etc

Warnings: SLASH, SEX (PLEASE LOOK AT THE M RATING), and language

_**A/N** This is a very character driven chapter, based on the development of the Arthur/Merlin relationship, and to warn you now, not a whole lot happens. XD This is mostly set-up for the next chapter, when things start to get interesting!_

_Also just realised that this fic is a strange combination of American and English spellings. I'm English, so I use the English terms, but when I upload the fic, the automatic spell-checker reverts some things to the American spellings. So I'm sorry for any confusion, but it does it automatically, and most of the time I don't catch it. *headdesk*_

_**Health update**: I know I've become a lot slower with updating, but unless I see a drastic change to my health in next couple of weeks, it's likely to remain that way. I'm on medication now, which makes me feel like I'm been run over by a truck, and then reversed back over, so this fic is not on the forefront of my mind. However, I have no intention of abandoning it (it is already written, I just need to do a lot of edits) so no need to worry about that! **IT WILL BE FINISHED, IT WILL JUST TAKE ME A BIT LONGER**! Just to make that nice and clear, lol._

_ Thanks for your patience, and for your lovely well-wishes!_

* * *

><p><strong>Cellmate<strong>

**Chapter 7 - Use and Abuse**

"So…" Merlin said, collapsing back on the bed, naked and sticky with sweat. He turned his head to fix the blond with his gaze. "What is it that we're doing here?"

Arthur let out a long, exasperated sigh, licked his lips and rolled his eyes.

It was one week later and the two cellmates had settled into a strange sort of arrangement, where they treated each other with familiar contempt during the day, and fell into bed with each other at night.

After Arthur had admitted to wanting to have sex with Merlin in his drug induced haze, he had backed himself into a corner, and he couldn't very well take it back. Surprising both himself and Merlin, instead of being a general shit about the whole situation, he had chose to make a move on his cellmate again the evening after. Merlin had accepted the proposition, pleased that the blond wanted to have any sort of relationship with him, even if it was purely sexual. Merlin didn't know whether it was the same thing as what Arthur had with Lancelot, but he was frankly far too afraid to ask.

But despite his insecurities, he quite liked actually having time to explore and enjoy Arthur's body, without fearing he was overstepping invisible boundaries. He'd learnt that the blond had a light dusting of freckles on his shoulder blades (from previous sunburn) and was ticklish on the back of his thighs. It felt strange, but weirdly satisfying, to have such intimate knowledge about him.

"What do you mean, 'What are we doing here?'" Arthur repeated a second later, jolting Merlin from his daydreams and causing him to tear his gaze away from his shoulder blades. "If I need to tell you that, we're not doing it right."

Merlin scowled. "That's not what I meant and you know it."

"Emrys, if this is your idea of after-sex talk…" the blond muttered, sweeping his damp messy hair out of his eyes and glaring determinedly at the ceiling.

"You don't want to talk about this, do you?" Merlin asked, gazing raking up Arthur's flushed and naked body. The blond noticed his stare and grinned, pressing a thigh against his cellmate's leg.

"No, I don't," Arthur replied in a blunt voice, shrugging his shoulders. "We're having sex, there's nothing to talk about."

Merlin sighed, but knew not to expect anything more. Although they regularly hooked up in the night - even sleeping in the same bed - anything private or personal seemed to be out of bounds. Their relationship in the day had not changed in the slightest, meaning they barely acknowledged each other, except when flashing each other slightly suggestive glances when nobody else was looking.

They hadn't even talked properly since the night of the drugs, but every time Merlin attempted conversation, Arthur would distract him, usually with some form of sexual activity. Merlin suspected the blond was trying not to reveal anything more personal about himself, especially since he'd all but admitted to being lonely and insecure during his drug induced stupor, but it was already far too late. Merlin had already seen Arthur at his most vulnerable, something he was not likely to forget, and there was nothing the blond could do to about it.

Hating the silence, and curious as to what Arthur was thinking, Merlin tried for conversation again. He was too wake to fall asleep, but too sated to have sex again, and he wanted Arthur to distract him. "So…did you have fun in workshop?" he ventured.

"Emrys, you don't have to fill these silences," Arthur snapped, pressing his knuckles against his eyes in a gesture that looked insultingly longsuffering. "In fact, I'd really prefer it if you didn't. You really don't understand the concept of fuck-buddies, do you?"

Merlin sat up slightly. "So, we're fuck-buddies?"

"No," Arthur sighed. "We are nothing. There is no name. Stop over thinking something that's supposed to be simple."

"Well, sorry I've got a brain, unlike your usual conquests," Merlin muttered sarcastically, digging his toes into Arthur's calf and hoping that it hurt. It was move he would not have dared do more than a week ago, but now he found it oddly satisfying.

The blond yelped, in a strangely high-pitched voice, and jerked away. "You did that on purpose," he hissed, narrowing his eyes at Merlin's innocent expression. "Besides, Lancelot has a brain."

Merlin let out a 'hmm', but was unsure of what else to say, still rather uncomfortable with the subject of Lancelot. It was obvious Arthur cared for the man a great deal, but he really wasn't sure how he felt about it. Should he be jealous? Was that allowed between fuck-buddies? He wasn't sure.

He tried to change the subject instead, proud that he'd drawn the blond into conversation. "So…guess what I did today?" he asked, hoping to spike his curiosity.

The blond merely groaned. "Merlin, I really don't care!"

* * *

><p>"So, how are you this morning?" Will asked the next day, rolling his eyes at Merlin's beaming expression. "Disgustingly happy by the look of it. Why do I bother asking?"<p>

Merlin laughed. Not even Will's cutting humour or the surly breakfast server spooning him watery porridge could ruin his happy mood. Although he and Arthur were hardly in a supporting and trusting relationship, he was having regular sex - very good regular sex - and nothing was going to spoil it for him. It was nice to have such a great distraction from his usual worries.

"Nothing wrong with being in a good mood," he replied, eyes flicking to Arthur sat on the other side of the cafeteria. He was eating slowly, mouth wrapping delicately around his fork, reminding Merlin of the night before, when those very same lips, soft and red, had wrapped around his cock.

"Oh, Jesus!" Will exclaimed, startling him out of his daydreams. "I'm trying to speak to you here. You've really got it bad, haven't you?"

Merlin scoffed and looked down at his porridge. "I haven't got it bad, I'm just enjoying having a…sexual…partner..." He dribbled off, and shifted uncomfortably.

"Is that what you are? Sexual partners?" Will's voice was doubtful.

"What if we are?" Merlin raised his head and jutted out his chin, expression defiant, not like the disbelieving tone in Will's words.

"Look, Arthur's already hurt you once, as much as you like to deny it. The post-sex dismissal, remember? I'm just trying to remind you not to get too carried away, that's all," Will reminded him, shrugging and shaking his head.

Merlin frowned. "Why not? I'm with someone exciting, good-looking and -"

"Dangerous?" Will suggested. Although he'd be initially supportive of Merlin having sex with Arthur, their continuing relationship was worrying him, especially as it was obvious Merlin was becoming increasingly emotionally invested and he was fairly sure that Arthur was not.

"Don't ruin this for me," Merlin pleaded, cheeks flushing. "I've never been with someone like Arthur before. I know it's not perfect, but it's different." He looked down at his food, unable to meet his friend's worried stare, feeling slightly ashamed. "I like it."

Will sighed, running a hand over his face. "I'm not going to ruin it for you," he said, grim. "I don't have to. Lancelot's going to do that for me."

Merlin's heart gave a jittery jump and his eyes widened, a familiar feeling of dread descending rapidly on his stomach. "Lancelot?"

Will nodded. "Yeah, I just heard he's out of hospital tomorrow."

Merlin closed his eyes and groaned, hiding his head in his hands. He had nothing against Lancelot personally, especially considering he'd heard mostly good things about Arthur's best friend, but he was dreading his return nevertheless. He and Arthur had just settled into a comfortable routine, and Merlin was fairly sure that when Lancelot returned, he services would no longer be needed.

Mood deflated, Merlin slunk around in a sulk for the rest of the day, shoulders slumped and expression solemn. Lancelot's return was suddenly the only thing he could think about, which caused many near-fatal accidents during workshop, much to Will's visible distress. He just hated that every time he seemed to make some progress with Arthur, however small, something would inevitably happen to prevent it.

By the time he returned to the cell in the evening, his mood was so foul even Arthur looked vaguely concerned. Albeit, only vaguely.

"What's wrong with you?" the blond asked, raising an eyebrow as Merlin collapsed onto his bed, breathing in the warm and now familiar scent.

"Nothing," Merlin replied, working to keep his voice cool and casual. He probably didn't succeed.

Arthur shook his head but accepted the answer, clearly preoccupied with something else. His features were lit up and his eyes were glittering, an expression Merlin rarely saw on his cellmate. "Guess what?"

"What?" Merlin responded dully, though he already had a fairly good idea what the blond was going to say.

"Lancelot's coming back tomorrow," Arthur grinned, his excitement obviously making him a much friendlier person. He actually appeared to be genuinely happy, something that sent strange butterflies flapping in Merlin's stomach.

"That's great," he said, trying not to sound resentful that it was Lancelot causing Arthur to light up like a Christmas Tree. He didn't think he succeeded, but the blond was evidently too pleased to notice.

"Finally some good news," Arthur smiled, before admitting quietly, "Makes a pleasant change."

Merlin watched his cellmate's gaze flicker away, thrown by the strangeness of the uncharacteristic action. "This Mordred thing has really got to you, hasn't it?" he asked, before he could stop himself.

The blond blinked and glanced back up, shaking his head. He had evidently realized that his tone had revealed too much. "No," he snapped, looking defensive. "It's been like this with Mordred for years, but the Lancelot thing was a new low, even for him." He shrugged, but the gesture was rigid, far from casual. "It just took me by surprise, that's all."

Merlin raised his eyebrows, but wisely did not try to contradict his cellmate's words.

"Anyway, let's not talk about Mordred," Arthur said a second later, his face contorting, and a suggestive smile curving back at his lips. "It's ruining my mood - I can think of a lot of things I'd rather be doing."

Merlin rolled his eyes, but didn't think he was completely able to keep the eager expression off his face, because apparently he was about as subtle as a 12 year old. But if it was going to be the last night before Lancelot's return, he was going to make the very most of it.

He nudged Arthur back onto the bed, finding his lips for a needy kiss.

It took only seconds for him to shed the blond of his clothes, pushing him down onto his back and climbing on top of him. He explored the now familiar territory of Arthur's bare stomach, stroking the soft strip of hair and swallowing his cellmate's responding moan.

Although Merlin intended to take his time, the blond had other ideas, grabbing his hand and moving it down to his erection suggestively. But Merlin drew back, shaking his head.

Arthur frowned, breathing ragged. "What?" he asked, eyes wild and glazed.

"I'm not giving you a hand job," Merlin informed him, fingers trailing down his cellmate's toned bronze chest.

The blond was unable to hide his gob-smacked expression, eyebrows shooting up his forehead. "Why not?" he demanded defensively.

Merlin couldn't hold back a smile, threading a hand through Arthur's hair. He was going to miss being able to touch the blond wherever he wanted; he hadn't had the privilege very long, but having the Arthur pliant under his touch had been enjoyable nevertheless.

"Because you're going to fuck me," he said, grinning with a confidence he didn't think he'd ever have. He liked being able to be free and adventurous, without feeling as though Arthur would be shocked, horrified or judge him.

The blond licked his lips, looking up at him from under his eyelashes. "Well, why didn't you just say so?" he grinned, flipping them over until Merlin was flat on his back, blinking in surprise. "Why sex?"

Merlin shrugged his shoulders as well as he could in his position, looking past Arthur's head and at the wall. "Want to make the most of it, I guess."

The blond dipped his lips into the curve of his cellmate's neck, licking at the tender skin. "Most of what?" he asked, although he didn't sound as though he particularly cared about the answer. He sucked another mark into Merlin's skin, before glancing up when the dark-haired man declined to answer. "You're a very confusing person, Emrys - I've given up trying to understand you."

Merlin laughed at the irony, leaning up slightly and fumbling for a bottle of oil. "Yeah, know how that feels," he said, raising his eyebrows. "And you accuse me of talking at inappropriate moments."

Arthur grinned, wrestling the oil out of cellmate's grip and pinching his waist jokingly. "Then I suggest you shut me up…" he said suggestively, causing Merlin to fling in his arms around his blond head and pull Arthur towards him.

He groaned as their mouths met again, sinking back onto the bed and committing the moment to memory.

* * *

><p>The next day Merlin slunk down to breakfast with the air of a man awaiting his execution. For perhaps the first time since the beginning of their 'arrangement', Arthur had been the first one out of bed, anxious and eager to be reunited with Lancelot, apparently oblivious to Merlin's own less than enthusiastic response.<p>

It was strange seeing the blond so genuinely excited about something, but it saddened Merlin that he was not the one responsible for Arthur's drastic change in demeanour. He'd got out of bed half an hour later than the blond had done, reluctant to leave the comforting warmth of Arthur's sheets, and dreading his return back to reality.

By the time he finally got down to breakfast, Merlin knew immediately that Lancelot had already returned.

There was a small huddle of prisoners crowded around Arthur's usual table, making his cellmate's familiar blond head hard to spot through the bustling horde; people seemed to be surrounding Lancelot, attempting to congratulate him on his safe return.

As Merlin took his regular seat next to Will, he watched the commotion, eyes surveying Lancelot critically. He was sat beside Arthur, all dark and handsome, gestures friendly and eyes tinkling. He and the blond talked at regular intervals, often interrupted by various well-wishers, but deliberately remaining close.

"Why does he have to be good-looking?" Merlin moaned, dropping his head into his hands.

Will looked up from his breakfast and shrugged. "That's always the way," he replied, though he did sound as though he was at least attempting to sound sympathetic.

"What am I going to do?" Merlin asked, hoping that by some miracle his friend would have a brilliant solution.

Will shrugged again. "Ask for a threesome?"

Merlin smacked his head against the table. Hard.

* * *

><p>"So, how's Lancelot?" Merlin asked that evening, after he and Arthur had returned to their cell.<p>

The blond was sat on the edge of his bed, face flushed and expression almost_ pleased_. He wriggled off his shoes and leant back against the wall, giving his shoulders a lazy shrug. "Good, actually. Glad to be back. And Mordred is of course fuming over his return, which makes it even better."

Merlin smiled, but he feared it was a little bit strained. "Oh. Well, that's good." He shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot, unsure of what to do. Should he get up onto his own bunk and try to go to sleep?

"Well, we do still have to watch out for Mordred," Arthur explained, raising his eyebrows at his cellmate's dithering expression, although he didn't comment on it. "He could be planning something else."

"Yeah…." Merlin nodded, looking away. Having no more to say on the subject, he tried a different approach. "Have a good time in workshop?"

Arthur rolled his eyes and leant forward. "I've told you before, you don't have to fill these silences," he said tiredly, grabbing Merlin's hand and pulling him towards him.

Merlin gasped as Arthur slipped his arms around his waist, attempting to pull him onto his bed. "What are you doing?" he exclaimed, realising that it was a stupid expression, but unable to stop his mouth moving, eyes round with surprise.

Arthur gave him a funny look. "What does it look like I'm doing?" he said sarcastically. "The same thing we've been doing all week."

"What about Lancelot?" The words were out of Merlin's mouth before he could stop them, desperate and involuntary. He mentally kicked himself.

"What about him?" the blond asked, letting go of his waist and fixing him with a bewildered stare.

Merlin opened and closed his mouth for a few moments, unsure of how to phrase his thoughts without sounding even more idiotic. If Arthur's disbelieving expression was anything to go by, the blond already thought he was a little bit unhinged. "I thought…you and Lancelot…well, people have said…you're together. And now he's back…I thought…well, I don't know."

Arthur looked momentarily lost by Merlin's stilted words, but he finally seemed to connect the phrases together, comprehension slowly dawning. "Not that it's really any of your business, but Lancelot and I aren't together like that anymore," the blond admitted, crossing his arms, and cocking an unimpressed eyebrow.

Merlin mouthed "oh", before his curiosity got the better of him. "Why not?"

Arthur glared, evidently deciding whether to answer him or not. "Sometimes you just shouldn't speak," he said, letting out a small sigh, but he chose to answer him nevertheless. "Because Lancelot is with Gwen."

The words took a while to register. "…Gwen? The prison doctor?"

"Yeah."

"Since when?"

"Well, they've always had a 'connection', as Lancelot put it, but she's been helping treat him after the whole Mordred thing," Arthur explained, leaning back against the wall. "And they got together."

Merlin's eyebrows were disappearing up his hairline, doubt marring his features. "But, is that allowed? A prisoner and a member of staff?"

Arthur suddenly leant back forwards, eyes bright and expression earnest. "No. Which is why if you tell anyone, I _will_ kill you."

Merlin wasn't sure if his cellmate was joking or not, but his stare was scary enough, so he nodded in reply, making a mental note NOT to blurt it straight out to Will. "That's kind of sweet," he said thoughtfully, after a very long pause, attempting to break the atmosphere. "A forbidden love."

Arthur rolled his eyes, but the tension was successfully shattered.

"Are you ok with it?" Merlin asked hesitantly, seizing the opportunity and looking down at the ground.

The blond paused, surveying his cellmate with shielded eyes. "I'm happy for him," he admitted, almost reluctantly. "He deserves it."

Merlin blinked, unable to hide his surprise. "Really?"

"Yeah…" Arthur muttered, looking slightly offended by his cellmate's disbelief. "I do care about him, you know."

Merlin nodded, smiling slightly. "I know," he said, "I just didn't think you'd admit it."

The blond shrugged, looking unnerved and unsure of what to say. He looked past Merlin's head and focused on the opposite wall, working to keep his expression vacant, though he was still wringing his hands anxiously. Merlin's brow furrowed at the sight, committing the image to memory. He found it extraordinary that Lancelot seemed to have such a strong effect on Arthur, whether he would admit it or not. Maybe the blond was just different with everyone he cared about?

After a very uncomfortable silence, worried he had gone to far, Merlin spoke again, desperately trying to coax out his cellmate's familiar feistiness. "Well, I had a good day," he said abruptly, voice thick with false falsetto. "I went to work-shop with Will. Almost killed him a few times, but I can't help my natural clumsiness." Arthur was watching him now, eyebrows knitting together. "It was quite funny seeing the horrified expression on his face though." Now that Merlin was in his stride, he couldn't stop the word-vomit that was issuing from his mouth, despite the increasingly bemused stare the blond was giving him. "And I spoke to my mother on the phone for the first time in ages. Now that was a very uncomfortable conversation - almost as uncomfortable as this -"

"Stop talking, for the love of god," Arthur interrupted, voice ringing with authority. Although his words were snappy, Merlin could see the suppressed amusement on his cellmate's face, eyes glittering playfully.

But he still frowned, slightly affronted. "I was just trying to -"

He was quickly cut off as Arthur launched towards him, catching his mouth in a swift kiss and pulling him forcefully onto the bed. It could have been out of uncontrollable passion, or simply because he wanted to shut his cellmate up, Merlin wasn't sure.

But he liked to believe it was the former.

* * *

><p>"So, what happened with Arthur about the Lancelot thing?" Will asked the next day, as they sat at their usual breakfast table, ready for their early-morning chat.<p>

Merlin grinned, shovelling watery porridge into his mouth without a single complaint. He was attempting not to look smug that Will had been wrong, but he didn't think he was succeeding, not if his friend's confused frown was anything to go by.

"Arthur's not with Lancelot anymore," he proclaimed proudly, unable to stop himself from puffing out his chest.

"What?" Will choked, looking disbelieving.

He turned in his seat and found Arthur and Lancelot, sat as usual on the other side of the cafeteria. They were sat facing each other, heads bent forwards and conversing quietly. The crowds that had surrounded Lancelot the day before had dispersed, instead turning their attention to a new prisoner who had arrived that morning.

"They're not together," Merlin said firmly, sucking on his spoon.

"Why not?" Will cried, eyebrows disappearing up his forehead.

Merlin shifted uncomfortably, smile fading. He was well aware that the only reason Arthur and Lancelot weren't continuing their relationship was because Lancelot was with Gwen, but it didn't stop him from feeling happy about it. "Um…Lancelot's with someone else," he admitted, remembering Arthur's warning to not mention the prison doctor.

"Who?"

"Um…don't know," he responded, looking down at his plate. He felt his friend's eyes on him and smiled, attempting to distract him from the lie. "But it means me and Arthur are still…together."

Will's eyes narrowed, lips pursed into a thin line. "Together? Is that what you call it?" he asked blandly, raising an eyebrow. "Because I doubt Arthur would call it the same."

Merlin scowled, anger curling in his stomach, irritated by the assumptions. Ok, Will was right, but he didn't need to know that. "How would you know?" he snapped, surprised at himself. "You don't know anything about mine and Arthur's relationship."

Will looked thrown by the snappiness of his words, but rallied himself a second later, frown deepening. "Relationship?" he yelped, looking at his friend with a mixed expression of incredulousness and pity, something that made Merlin curl his fists defensively.

"Yes," he replied, in a stubborn voice, crossing his arms. He knew that Will was raising a valid point, but was unwilling to back down. He'd listened to his friend's warped opinion about Arthur for far too long, and it had resulted in nothing but chaos.

"Well, the reason I don't know anything about your 'relationship' with Arthur is because I've never even seen you together! He ignores you during the day and then falls into bed with you at night!"

"So?"

"That's not a relationship!" Will insisted, lowering his voice as he realised they were beginning to attract attention. "He's using you, and you're too blindingly in love with him to see it!"

Merlin gaped, anger forgotten, mouth dropping open. "I-I'm not in love with him!" he cried immediately, the words ripping painfully from his throat.

Will shook his head, looking exasperated, but no longer angry. "Maybe not yet. But you're heading very quickly in that direction, whether you know it or not," he said, shrugging his shoulders. "And Merlin, do you honestly believe that Arthur would ever return those feelings?"

Merlin dropped his gaze to the table, trying to hide his growing uncertainty. "You don't know him," he muttered, mind flashing through his time with Arthur, when the blond had been at his weakest and most vulnerable. "You don't know the half of it. He can be a good person."

Will shrugged again, looking doubtful. "Well, you know him better than I do, I guess."

"Yes, I do," Merlin replied firmly, with far more confidence than he suddenly felt.

"I don't want to fight with you," his friend responded, giving him a small smile. "Just…be careful."

Merlin nodded, although annoyed, still somewhat touched by Will's concern. "I will," he promised.

To be continued…

* * *

><p><em><strong>AN** Yes, Merlin has turned into a 13 year old girl - but alas, it will not last long, don't worry! This chapter is really about the development of their relationship, rather than anything else. I just read it through and realised that nothing was different at the end of the chap than it was at the beginning :S_

_But the next chapter is probably my fav from the fic, because things start coming together! Merlin gets a visit from his mother and a reality check, Morgana's rumbled, Mordred is not happy, and it all kicks off! YAY! Hours to write, minutes to review, so please R&R! :)_


	8. Secrets and Lies

Disclaimer: I own nothing except the plot blah blah blah...

Warnings: THERE BE SLASH HERE PEOPLE! AND SEX. AND LANGUAGE. ALL THE GOOD STUFF TBH. YE BE WARNED!

_**Health Update:** I'm still ill, seeing another doctor. Woe is me. But thank you very much for your well-wishes and kind reviews!_

_A/N I really like this chapter because it starts to bring the story together, but I have a feeling by the end lots of people may not...Sorry!_

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><p><strong><span>Cellmate<span>**

**Chapter 8 - Secrets and Lies**

Merlin shifted uncomfortably in his seat, gaze flicking subconsciously to the door, heart thumping uncontrollably against his ribcage. It had been months now since he'd last seen his mother, and he was strangely anxious, unsure of what he was going to tell her. He doubted she would take kindly to discovering he'd been sleeping with his criminal cellmate for the last two weeks, especially one that was part of an infamous gang.

He'd spoken to her on the phone a few times since his arrival at the prison, more out of duty than anything else, but he'd told her nothing about Arthur, or in fact Mordred. He feared that she'd worry, more than she was already, and that was the last thing he wanted - especially after all the pain he'd put her through recently. He was already causing her enough heartache by being arrested in the first place.

He shook his head, attempting to rid the negative thoughts from his mind, because he didn't want to alarm her when she arrived. He was determined to appear cheerful.

It was times like this he could do with Will's cutting humour to distract him. But, typically, when he'd got up that morning he'd found out his friend had been locked in isolation for smarting off at an officer, which had resulted in the routine punishment. Merlin would have found it highly amusing if he hadn't needed his friend's support over his mother's visit, which was hard to come by when said friend wasn't even there.

Arthur hadn't been much help either. He had appeared his usual stoic self, apparently immune to Merlin's anxiousness over his mother's arrival. He didn't bother questioning his lover over her visit, choosing instead to point-blank ignore his cellmate's nervousness. In a way Merlin was grateful, glad that he didn't have to explain the situation, but a small part of him did wish that the blond would show more interest, instead of casting him confused looks when he didn't think Merlin was looking.

Fortunately, Arthur soon made up for his lack of concern when he'd convinced Merlin to have early morning sex, something which had successfully distracted him from his mother's impending visit.

But now Merlin was all alone, with no Will or Arthur to divert his attention. He was sat in the visiting room, surrounded by some of his fellow prisoners, attempting not to vomit all over the table in front of him. He was doing surprisingly well, although he feared he was looking slightly green, if the worried looks the guards were giving him were anything to go by.

Before he could work himself up into any more of a frenzy, however - which he was awfully prone to doing - the door opened, and the visitors slowly started to file in.

Merlin jumped to his feet, eyes scanning the trail of people nervously, until they finally landed upon his mother.

She looked exactly how he remembered her: dark hair, round shining face, and a timid expectant expression. It was strange how much she hadn't changed, when Merlin himself had never felt so different. Bidding goodbye to her at court seemed like a lifetime ago.

He watched her scan the tables, wringing her hands in a oddly familiar way, before her gaze finally met his own.

A bright, but slightly anxious, smile broke out on her face, causing Merlin's heart to jump erratically against his ribcage. He could do nothing but watch her approach in absolute silence, arms and legs frozen painfully against his will.

It was only when her arms encircled his waist, trapping him in her cinnamon scented embrace, did Merlin unwind, clasping desperately at her back. He buried his face in her hair, breathing ragged, suddenly realising how much he'd missed her.

But, after too brief a time, they drew back, looking at each other with the same wide-eyed expression.

"How are you?" Hunith asked, face pinched in worry. Her eyes seemed to be scanning Merlin's face, looking for any sign of ill health or injury, her hands clamped tightly on his arms.

"I'm fine," he replied honestly, unable to stop himself from smiling at her concern. It had been a strangely long time since he'd seen anyone worry about him, except perhaps Will, and the feeling sent long sharp pangs down to his heart. "Really."

"Y-you…look well," Hunith muttered, smiling slightly in reply. Her eyes were shining, wide and glazed, almost at the point of tears.

"I am well," Merlin grinned, nervousness forgotten, plying himself out of her grip and gesturing to the seat opposite. "It's so good to see you."

"Really?" Hunith laughed shortly and without humour, her voice worryingly shaky. "Because it hasn't sounded like you wanted me to come and see you."

Merlin looked down at the table, unable to meet her hurt gaze. "I…I didn't want to bother you."

"Bother me?" his mother choked. "You're my son! I want to know that you're alright."

"I am!" he insisted, looking back up, straight into her eyes. "I just didn't want to cause you more trouble."

Hunith reached across the table, taking his hand in her soft warm grip. Merlin looked down at it, surprised, finding himself almost in tears himself. It had been so long since someone had touched him affectionately. "It's no trouble," she murmured.

Merlin let out a choked laugh, trying to distract himself. "So, how are you doing?"

"Ok," Hunith smiled, "but I miss you."

"I miss you too."

"Glad to hear it," she said, stroking his fingers. "I did wonder. Your phone calls are always so…brief."

Merlin looked down at their entwined hands, feeling ashamed. "I'm sorry for that. I'm sorry for a lot of things."

Hunith paused for a moment, watching him with a soft sad, expression. "I know you are. But you don't have to be sorry for things that aren't your fault."

Merlin bit his tongue, fighting with the urge to argue. He did need to be sorry. He'd brought his family and friends pain and suffering, whether he'd intended to or not.

"So…" his mother said, brighter than before, trying to break the tension. "How is it in here? Have you got any friends?"

Friend was a strange word. Could he even count anyone as a true friend? Except maybe Will. "A couple," he responded, smiling reassuringly.

"What are they like?"

Merlin thought of Arthur and their complicated not-quite-happening relationship, before his mind flashed to Will, a much safer choice to explain to his already concerned mother. "Well, there's Will. I might have mentioned him in a phone call. He's fun, loud, and a bit crazy," he explained, choosing not to mention that his friend was currently residing in isolation for being too much of a smart ass. "He looks after me."

Hunith smiled genuinely, neither sadly nor strained, eyes twinkling. "Well, I guess I'll have to meet him someday."

Merlin nodded, feeling a burst of affection for his friend. "I'm sure he'll like that."

His mother squeezed his hand, looking surprisingly pleased, and maybe a little bit proud. "Anyone else?"

"Um…my cellmate," he said hesitantly, unsure of how to continue. "His name's Arthur. We had a few disagreements at first, but now we've reached an…understanding."

"An understanding?"

"Yeah." Merlin was fairly sure he was blushing, but he looked down at the table, eager to avoid his mother's eyes.

"What's he like?" Hunith pressed, forehead creasing in confusion. She seemed intrigued now, silently contemplating her son's attempt at avoidance, giving his hand another squeeze of reassurance.

"Um…blond," Merlin replied, trying to find things she wouldn't make a big deal out of. "Sarcastic. A bit maddening. But nice. Sort of."

Hunith laughed. "Well, now I want to meet him too."

Merlin smiled, although he feared it was a little bit strained. "I don't think that would be possible," he muttered, so low Hunith could barely hear it.

But before she could question his words, a guard clapped his hands together, loudly announcing that visiting time would be over in two minutes.

Both Merlin and Hunith gazed back at each other, unsure of how to say goodbye. The time seemed to have passed so quickly for Merlin, and despite his initial reluctance to see her, he suddenly found he didn't wish for her to leave.

"Well, I guess this is…." Merlin gestured awkwardly, taking in a rather choked breath. "…Goodbye."

"I'll come and see you again," Hunith said soothingly, bringing his hand to her lips and giving it a breathy kiss. "In a couple of weeks, if that's OK with you?"

Merlin gave his head a jerky nod. "If…that's what you want."

"Of course it is," his mother said firmly, shaking her head. She met Merlin's eyes with a frighteningly intensity, although her face was still smooth and soft. "I know that you…must feel ashamed about what happened, but that doesn't mean you can't talk to me. You're my son and I love you. If you need anything - anything at all - just call me."

Merlin nodded again, fearing if he opened his mouth he'd burst into tears. He'd missed her so much.

He got to his feet and gave her a tight hug goodbye, muttering "bye" into her ear.

"I'll see you again soon," Hunith replied, stroking his cheek.

She backed slowly away, giving him one last wave before she disappeared back out the door, following the rest of the visitors.

As she left, Merlin let out a shaky sigh, feeling deserted. He missed her already, in a way that he hadn't realised until he had seen her. Even just her presence, warm and loving, was comfortable in a way he had almost forgotten.

Glancing around the room, he saw the other prisoners bidding goodbye to their loved ones, all looking reassuringly sombre. Even the surly breakfast server (who refused to serve Merlin anything but porridge) had a visitor, and a very pretty one at that.

She was tall and pale, reminding Merlin very much of Morgana, the striking prison guard. She even had the same long dark hair, although the woman's eyes were startlingly blue, rather than Morgana's green. But similarly, she was breathtakingly beautiful, in dark and intimidating way. What she was doing visiting such an absolute misery, Merlin had no idea.

Dragging his eyes away from the gorgeous stranger, Merlin got to his feet, feeling almost refreshed, as though a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He waited to be dismissed, suddenly anxious to return to his cell and be reunited with what was now familiar.

* * *

><p>Merlin returned to the main part of the prison feeling somewhat relieved. He was glad he'd cleared the air with his mother, as much as he could, and was touched he still had her support if he needed it - it was more than he ever could of asked for.<p>

But by the time he got back, most of the prisoners were in the communal area, playing pool or watching TV. Merlin didn't like going into the communal area very often, mostly because it consisted of rowdy criminals, but needed to talk to somebody about what had just transpired.

It was only after he'd done a quick round of the room that he remembered Will was still in isolation, alone and unreachable.

Cursing silently, Merlin made to return back to his cell for an early night, when something from the other side of the area distracted him.

It was Arthur, looking all sun-kissed and gorgeous, stood directly opposite Mordred, just as they had been in the showers the day Arthur had been attacked. Except unlike their previous confrontation, it was Mordred, not Arthur, launching the offensive.

The raven-haired druid was mouthing rapidly, back ramrod straight, but Merlin was too far away to distinguish his actual words. He was surrounded by the rest of the druid gang, who all looked livid, fists clenched and bodies shaking. Fortunately, they all seemed mindful of the prison guards, who were watching the exchange with increasing wariness, unable to attack Arthur without having to suffer the consequences.

Lancelot was stood just behind the blond, brow furrowed, looking ready to come to Arthur's aid. He had a placating hand on his friend's arm, but was saying nothing, letting Mordred and Arthur speak without interruption.

Merlin crept closer, through the throng of other prisoners, whose attention all seemed to be fixed on the unfolding argument.

"What are you talking about, Mordred?" Arthur was saying, just as Merlin moved close enough to be in earshot. The blond appeared genuinely confused, arms crossed defensively, eyebrows disappearing into his hairline.

"You know what I'm talking about," Mordred hissed, his indifferent demeanour forgotten. His blank expressionless face had been replaced with a snarling mask, his usually smooth features contorted, teeth bared. Merlin wasn't sure which look was scarier, but knew he didn't wish to be on the receiving end of either one ever again.

"No," Arthur said slowly, as though talking to a small child, "I don't."

"You got her fired," Mordred supplied, causing a ripple of confusion to spread through the crowd. All the prisoners - apart from the druids - seemed to have no idea what he was talking about, including Arthur.

"Got who fired?" the blond asked, unable to hide his bewilderment.

"Morgana."

Arthur's mouth opened soundlessly for a second, before he collected himself. He glanced back at Lancelot, looking strangely discomfited. "If she's been fired, it's got nothing to do with me."

"Liar!" Mordred cried, apparently unable to contain himself.

The guards stiffened at the raised voice, edging closer, ready to prevent a fight.

"I know you did this," Mordred continued, voice lowering dangerously, staring at Arthur with narrowed blue-eyes. "For revenge. Because I hurt your lover-boy."

Lancelot spluttered indigently from behind the blond, looking amusingly affronted, and cried, "I am not his _lover-boy_!"

Mordred's gaze flickered to Lancelot for a split second, before returning straight back to Arthur. He seemed to be containing the urge to roll his eyes, expression distinctly unimpressed. "Not you, Lothario," he snapped, teeth grinding together. He dragged his eyes away from the blond once more, moving his all-seeing stare straight through the crowd, before it landed directly on Merlin. "I'm talking about Emrys."

Merlin took a step back in surprise, heart shooting into his throat, just as everyone turned to look at him. Even Lancelot was staring at him in wide-eyed surprise, looking between him and the blond for confirmation.

But Arthur merely sighed, dismissing Mordred's words carelessly. "I haven't done anything to_…avenge_…Merlin's attack. Least of all anything involving Morgana."

"Liar," Mordred repeated, although he was calmer now, a cold sickening smirk returning to his face. "You told the wardens she's a druid."

Loud whisperings broke out among the watching prisoners, shock evident on most people's faces. Merlin was fairly sure his own mouth was hanging open as well, jaw firmly on the floor. He knew that he shouldn't have been so surprised, because it certainly explained a lot, but he was floored nevertheless.

"Morgana's a _druid_?" Lancelot gasped, voicing the question of indignation that most people were thinking.

Mordred said nothing, deciding the question was beneath his notice, still staring at Arthur with frightening intensity.

The blond however, seemed to be taking the news better than most. His face had taken on it's usual stoic mask, although his eyebrows had hurtled up his forehead at Mordred's words. "Morgana's a druid." It was statement, not a question. "That certainly clears up a few things."

"Like you didn't know," Mordred snapped.

Arthur ignored him. "That's why she always defended you," the blond continued, looking thoughtful. "Does she have the tattoo?"

"Funny you should say that," Mordred said, although he didn't sound amused, "because that's how they proved she was one."

Arthur nodded, looking politely interested.

It seemed to piss Mordred off more. "I've played it safe for far too long concerning you, Pendragon," he hissed quietly, stepping closer, Arthur watching him closely now. "I'm going to make you suffer for what you've done. Lover-boy and Lothario too."

With that, Mordred turned and marched away, leaving Merlin to suppress the shivers running down his spine. It sounded all very mafia to him, and he would have laughed at the words, except he had a sickening feeling Mordred had not been joking.

Arthur watched the druids retreat with wary eyes, Lancelot hovering nervously by his side. It was only when Mordred disappeared out the door that he looked away, giving his friend a small helpless shrug. They exchanged a few brief quiet words before the blond moved away, heading out of the communal area and towards the cells.

Merlin swallowed the lump in his throat and followed him.

* * *

><p>"What was all that about?" Merlin asked, following Arthur back into the room and closing the cell door behind him.<p>

"What do you mean, 'what was that all about'?" the blond repeated, rolling his eyes. "You were there."

Merlin shrugged, looking sheepish. He couldn't help that he often made idiotic remarks to initiate conversation or break tension, it came automatically to him. Kind of like embarrassing himself. "It was a rhetorical question," he said.

Arthur belly-flopped onto his bed and ran a hand through his golden hair. "You really do just talk for the sake of it, don't you?"

"No, I -"

"It was a rhetorical question," the blond interrupted, throwing Merlin's own words back at him and smirking at his small verbal victory.

Merlin scowled, but did not dignify the remark with a reply. "So, are we going to talk about this?" he asked, sounding far more confident than he ever would of dreamed. It was strange the effect Arthur's sneering, sarcastic words had on him. "Or are you going to carry on insulting me to avoid it."

The blond looked surprised by the conviction in Merlin's tone, but responded nevertheless, working to keep his voice cool and indifferent. "Talk about what?"

"About what happened downstairs!" Merlin cried, flailing his arms around in exasperation. "Mordred threatened us!"

Arthur rolled onto his back and looked up at him, expression unreadable. He seemed to be contemplating how to reply, eyes scanning his cellmate critically. Finally, he gave his shoulder a half-assed shrug and smiled, utterly relaxed, although it did not quite meet his eyes. "Mordred has threatened me numerous times in the past. It's nothing to worry about," he said, sounding surprisingly reassuring, despite the way Merlin's mouth had dropped open in indignation.

"Nothing to worry about?" he squawked, so high-pitched that Arthur jumped slightly in surprise.

"He's tried to attack me once before, and that was before anything was going on between us! And what about poor Lancelot?"

The blond let out a sigh, evidently realising his cellmate was about to work himself into a panic. "Well, he's warned us now - we'll be prepared," he muttered, his voice low and soothing, causing Merlin's heart to jump into his throat at the mention of 'we'. "Besides, maybe he'll realise that it really wasn't me who grassed on Morgana."

Merlin shifted anxiously, but looked slightly placated. "And if he doesn't?" he said, although he was unable to keep a small slither of hope from creeping into his voice. "Did you know Morgana was a member of the druids?"

Arthur shook his head. "No, I honestly didn't."

The words sounded so firm and open that Merlin instantly believed them. "Ok, so who reported her then?" he asked, as though Arthur would know.

The blond shrugged and rolled his eyes, although he was unable to keep his own uncertainty from twisting his features. "I don't know, Emrys. I'm not psychic!"

But Merlin ignored the jibe, distracted by Mordred's words. "How come no prison officers knew?" he asked quietly, more to himself than Arthur. "Aren't guards supposed to be screened before being hired here? Like a background check?"

"Yeah….But I doubt Morgana goes around wearing a 'I'm a proud member of the druids' T-shirt in her spare time," Arthur deadpanned, gazing up at the ceiling. "The members are supposed to be a secret."

"Oh," Merlin mouthed, pausing for a second. "This whole thing is getting really weird."

The blond shrugged in agreement, but said nothing in reply. After a minute or so of silence, he leant up slightly and grasped onto the edge of Merlin's shirt, tugging it towards him.

Merlin went without complaint, having nothing else to add to the conversation. He crawled onto the bed and attempted to push the Mordred situation to the back of his mind, surprising comforted that he and Arthur had fallen back into their now familiar routine. It had been a strange bewildering day, and Merlin was shockingly grateful that the blond could be relied on not to change; he was as indifferent and unflappable as ever.

Kissing him with vigour that Arthur wasn't expecting, Merlin clambered on top of him, anchoring his legs around his cellmate's hips. He kissed at the juncture between his neck and shoulder, sucking the soft skin into his eager mouth.

The blond grinned and let out a moan, arching his neck into Merlin's mouth. The sound did very strange things to Merlin's heart, which skittered embarrassingly in his chest.

Hoping that Arthur couldn't hear or feel it, he grabbed the hem of his cellmate's shirt, hiking it up and over his head. The blond hummed in approval, hands fisting clumps of Merlin's hair, pulling him back down for a kiss.

But Merlin grinned cheekily, avoiding his lips and licking softly at his jaw. Gradually he worked his way downwards, down past Arthur's throat and towards his chest, stroking his sides as he went.

As he sucked at the indentation of his collarbone, however, Merlin noticed something very different about Arthur's body. Vivid red marks marred the usually flawless skin, scarlet and angry on his chest. Merlin sucked in a deep breath, instantly knowing from Arthur's orders not to mark that it was not him who put them there.

"You've…you've been with someone else," Merlin stated with absolute certainty, his voice low and breathy. He felt as though somebody (well, Arthur) had sucker-punched him in the stomach, sending a sharp jolt of pain through his body and knocking all the air from his lungs. He was suddenly finding it very difficult to breathe, as though his heart was lodged painfully in his throat, rather than shattering into a million pieces.

But Arthur - apparently oblivious to his pain - merely blinked, giving one shoulder a half-shrug. "Yeah, so?"

Merlin let out a very weak laugh, which even sounded feeble to his own ears, moving slowly off the bed. "_So_?" he repeated, voice sounding pathetically shaky compared to Arthur's confident drawl.

"It was just a hand job," the blond explained, brow beginning to furrow in confusion. He pulled himself up onto his forearms and watched Merlin's retreat with wary eyes, licking his lips with growing anxiousness. "It was hardly something to write home about." He gestured to the marks scattered over his chest with an almost blasé wave. "He just got a bit overexcited."

"Who?" Merlin found himself asking, although he didn't really want to know, voice deceptively hollow.

Arthur frowned. "The new kid."

"Owain?" Merlin pictured him, the guy who had arrived only a couple of days before, the morning after Lancelot's return. He had paid him no mind, except to note that he was no longer the newbie, and hadn't contemplated for one second that Arthur might go for him. Well, he was certainly kicking himself now.

"Yeah, that's it," the blond confirmed, looking completely bewildered. He got to his feet and tried to approach his cellmate, only for Merlin to stagger back in response, flinching away from his touch.

"Don't!" Merlin cried automatically, sounding far stronger than he had seconds before.

"What's wrong?" Arthur asked, beginning to grow increasingly alarmed.

"What do you mean, 'what's wrong'?" Merlin yelled, causing the blond to take a small step backwards.

Arthur frowned, beginning to put the pieces together. "Oh, you're not…jealous are you?" The blond said 'jealous' as though it was a dirty word.

Merlin said nothing.

"You must have known this would happen, Emrys," Arthur sighed, running a hand through his hair. "What were you expecting? That we'd get together and live happily ever after?"

The blond sounded mocking, something that never failed to get Merlin's blood boiling. He clenched his fists, containing the urge to begin a physical fight he knew he would lose. Anger was building, almost exploding from his chest, and it was actually a relief, because he knew he was going to either shout or cry. "Then maybe you should have explained it to me, instead of just silencing me every time I tried to talk!" Merlin hissed, eyes flashing.

"I didn't hear you complaining," Arthur replied easily, shrugging his shoulders. "Besides, my.._.promiscuous_ nature is hardly a prison secret. You didn't enter this arrangement blind, so don't give me the wide-eyed victim routine!"

"Yes, stupid me for thinking that maybe you weren't just a lying, pig-headed slut!" The words tore from Merlin's throat before he could stop them, blinded by unexplainable rage. He didn't care if Arthur punched him, as he was in so much pain anyway it was unlikely to make much of a difference. "Stupid to think that maybe you could be my -"

"Your what?" Arthur cut across him, voice acidic now, face thunderous. "You knew it was just sex from the beginning, Emrys. I am NOT your boyfriend!"

"No," Merlin said calmly, backing quickly out the door. "You are not my anything, anymore."

To be continued…

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><p><em><strong>AN** DUN DUN DUNNN! Hands up if you saw that coming? LOLOLOL_.

_Hours to write, minutes to review, so please R&R! :)_


	9. For A Common Cause

**_A/N PLEASE READ! A couple of things I'd like to address before we get on with this chapter:_**

_1) I've had a few people ask why it's taking so long to update if all the chapters are already written. I've said a million times that I edit the chapters before I upload them, and it does take some time - each chapter is at least 4000 words, some are over 6000. Secondly, my update rate has been slowed down due to illness, as I've explained in my AN's. Because of this, this fic is not my priority IRL atm, and I don't think a chapter every couple/few weeks is particularly unreasonable, especially because they are all decent in length. I'm sorry if this sounds sharp, because most people have been very understanding, but it's not like I haven't kept people informed._

_And again, thanks very much for your well-wishes! :) I went back in for another procedure a few days ago, so I'm feeling pretty BLERGH atm._

_2) I've had a few people ask if/when Gwaine is going to be in the story. This fic was written before Gwaine arrived in the program, so no, sorry, he will NOT be in this fic! :(_

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><p><strong>Cellmate - Chapter 9<strong>

**For A Common Cause**

Merlin stalked back into the communal area, seething with anger. His initial hurt had been replaced with a boiling rage, and he was suddenly glad that he'd left the cell, knowing that if he had stayed he wouldn't of been able to stop himself from attempting to scratch Arthur's eyes out. Which would have no doubt been more dangerous for him than the blond.

At the back of his mind he knew he should have been expecting it, and on some level he had been, but hearing Arthur's complete carelessness about the pain he had caused made him want to smash something - preferably his cellmate's face. But he knew when to pick his battles, and wasn't about to embark on one he knew he couldn't win.

Will had warned him repeatedly, but he'd been too immersed in being with Arthur to care. He knew he owed his friend an apology, but Will wasn't even around in revel in his victory and say 'I told you so'.

And so, Merlin hovered in the corner of the communal area alone, watching the vaguely familiar faces chatter quietly. It was almost time for lockdown now, and there were only a few prisoners still remaining, clustered in small groups around the pool table. Even the druids were noticeably absent, as was tall, handsome Lancelot.

Feeling awkward, uncomfortable and frighteningly alone, Merlin wished for Will's usual presence, complete with his unsympathetic humour and useless advice. He wanted to talk with someone: to rant, rave and cry his heart out. He felt he deserved that at least, despite being naive enough to put his faith in somebody he logically shouldn't have done.

But he had nobody else to talk to, and when faced with the alternative of returning to his cell, Merlin would rather sit brooding in solitude. He thought of home, his quiet comfortable life, where he'd lived happily in peace, and wanted more than anything to be reminded of it. He remembered his mother's words that very morning, and found himself longing to hear the soft hum of her voice.

Inspiration hit and he was spurred into action, eager to get to the phone before lockdown. He was going to call his mother just like she'd suggested, and finally speak to someone who genuinely cared about him - someone he could trust to give him loving advice.

The phone was on the other side of the communal area, manned by a prison guard, and for once didn't have a massive queue. Merlin supposed it was because it was late, and calling time was almost over, but it still left him feeling embarrassingly relieved nonetheless.

Despite the lack of bustle, however, there was still one man making a call, who Merlin instantly recognised him as the miserable cafeteria server. He was leant away from the guard, speaking lowly, in a manner that seemed strangely suspicious.

Merlin frowned and hovered behind him, waiting for the call to finish.

But the man didn't seem to notice him, completely immersed in his conversation. "I know what we agreed," he said, speaking in hushed tones. "But I discovered something after you left."

Merlin knew that he shouldn't really of been listening to somebody else's private conversation, but found he couldn't help himself, instantly realising that the man must have been talking to the beautiful woman who had come to visit him that very morning.

"Mordred accused Arthur of revealing the truth about Morgana just like you said he would, but then he said something very interesting," the cafeteria server explained, not realising that Merlin had frozen behind him. "Mordred claimed that Arthur has a new play-thing - maybe we were wrong to target Lancelot."

Merlin hadn't had many actual jaw-dropping moments in his life, but this was definitely one of them. He had to work to contain his instinctive gasp, eyes practically popping out of his forehead. Everything seemed to come together in shocking clarity.

It had been the cafeteria worker who had attacked Lancelot, not Mordred. Merlin's mind was officially boggling, utterly incapable of processing the new information into anything remotely resembling sense.

"You think we should go for Arthur's new love interest? It might push him over the edge," the man continued, facing the wall. Merlin could not see his face, but could almost hear the twisted smugness of his expression in his voice. "He'd blame Mordred, and then they'd destroy each other."

Merlin's mouth was still hanging open, and he was still far too shocked to shut it, at least until the guard spoke loudly, jerking him out of his frozen horror.

"Two minutes left," he said, referring to the timed phone-call, obviously startling the cafeteria worker as well.

Finally realising that the man could turn around and spot him at any minute, Merlin backed quickly away, completely forgetting about his desire to call his mother. He rushed out of the almost deserted communal area and up to the cells on shaky legs, feeling even more thrown than he had been when he'd left.

He banged through the door of the cell without preamble, shocked and flustered beyond belief, inhaling a rapid lungful of air. For one moment it didn't matter that Arthur had betrayed him and their 'relationship' had ended. All that mattered was that were both in serious danger, and not just from the familiar - but no less creepy - threat that was Mordred.

Both Arthur and Lancelot jumped in alarm at his dramatic entrance, sat on the edge of Arthur's bed, heads bent together intimately. Usually, Merlin would have been really quite jealous by the disgusting display of companionship, but all he felt now was blind panic; there were_ two_ dangerous criminals in the jail who wanted him dead, and he had absolutely no idea what to do about it.

"Merlin!" the blond exclaimed, actually addressing his cellmate by his first name in his surprise. Which absolutely did not send Merlin's heart aflutter. "_What the fuck_?"

'What the fuck' was actually a pretty accurate representation of what was going through Merlin's mind, because he was utterly incapable of forming any other genuine words. He stood and mouthed wordlessly, waving his arms around in vague gestures that were supposed to mean something.

Neither Arthur or Lancelot, however, seemed to be able to decipher his code.

"What the hell are you doing?" Arthur snapped, with about as much tact and subtlety as Merlin had come to expect.

Lancelot on the other hand, was slightly more diplomatic, although he looked genuinely quite worried for Merlin's sanity. "Um….Are you ok?" he asked, which was really quite nice of him, considering they'd never even spoken before.

"I'm fine!" Merlin replied, although it sounded more like a very empathic gurgle. He waved his arms some more, trying to portray the seriousness of the situation. "We have to do something! I-was-just-downstairs-about-to-go-on-the-phone-and-the-horrible-guy-that-feeds-me-horrible-watery-porridge-was-on-the-phone-talking-to-the-pretty-lady-I-saw-earlier-and-they-are-the-ones-that-are-responsible-for-Lancelot's-attack-and-now-they-are-plotting-our-deaths-" he gestured to himself and Lancelot "-so-Arthur-would-get-really-really-angry-and-kill-Mordred." He took in a very deep breath. "It's him behind everything!"

He finished his tirade and waited expectantly, but both Arthur and Lancelot blinked back at him blankly.

"I got 'phone', 'porridge' and 'death'," Lancelot said eventually, speaking to the blond in a mildly confused tone. "Words that I never thought I'd hear together in the same sentence."

"You said…the porridge guy…is plotting something?" Arthur ignored Lancelot's words and focused on Merlin, his gaze baffled but intense, trying to piece together his cellmate's rapid fire explanation.

Merlin decided just to nod, figuring it would probably make more sense than any of his attempts to speak coherent English.

"Plotting to kill…you and Lancelot?" the blond continued, looking for confirmation. "To upset me? And make me attack Mordred?"

Merlin nodded again. "Well, OK, maybe kill is going a bit too far…. But attack, definitely."

"Porridge guy? Who'd you mean?" Lancelot asked, having caught up with the conversation, eyes round with disbelief.

"The cafeteria server," Arthur replied blanking, as though working on automatic. He seemed to be churning Merlin's words over in his mind, brow furrowing deeper and deeper. "Tristan."

"Him?" Lancelot let out a rather strained disbelieving laugh, leaving Merlin feeling rather relieved that he obviously wasn't the only person effected by what he'd heard. "He's all brawn and no brain."

Arthur sighed, as though somebody had just told him his favourite lasagne would not be served for dinner. "They're often the most dangerous ones."

Merlin flailed. "_Hello_? Can you at least _try_ and sound concerned, please?" His voice was heavy with anger and sarcasm, unable to hold back his mounting resentment. "I know me getting injured doesn't much matter to you, but they're plotting against Lancelot too!"

To his surprise, the blond flinched. "I am concerned, but panicking isn't getting anyone anywhere!" Although his words were sharp, Arthur sounded more defensive than angry, causing Merlin to soften despite himself.

"Calm down," Lancelot muttered, "both of you."

"'_Calm down_'?" Arthur sounded disbelieving. "We don't need to calm down - we need to find Tristan now!"

Merlin felt a stab of fear wrench at his gut. "What? Why?" Tracking down and confronting the person who wanted to attack them, didn't sound like a particularly good plan from where he was standing. Or a particularly safe one.

But the blond merely rolled his eyes. "What do you mean 'why'? To get rid of the fucker!"

"OK," Lancelot said loudly, holding up his hands, "lets not get ahead of ourselves. What good would attacking Tristan do? We're in prison! It's not like we could actually kill him!"

Merlin couldn't help but smile smugly.

Arthur ignored him. "We could kill him. I'm going to be in here forever, anyway."

Merlin would have been worried, but he knew the blond well enough to know there was no real intent in his voice. He had obviously conceded to Lancelot's point, but was too proud to say so.

"We need to think about this," Lancelot said, obviously agreeing with him.

"It's not Tristan that's behind it anyway," Merlin felt he should point out, glad he'd finally regained the power of speech. "He was speaking to a woman on the phone. She's behind it, not Tristan. From what I heard, he's only doing as she says."

Arthur frowned. "How'd you know it was a woman on the phone?"

"Because I saw her today, during the visits. She's very pretty."

"We need to find out who she is then." Lancelot pointed out the obvious.

"How?"

"Do some digging," Arthur replied, running a hand through his hair, like he often did when he was stressed. Merlin couldn't blame him; running a hand through Arthur's hair used to calm him too. "Someone around here must know something. And if they don't, someone outside will."

Lancelot opened his mouth to reply when the familiar warning for lockdown sounded through the cells. The guards could be heard making their way past each room, checking every prisoner was in the correct place.

"I've got to go," Lancelot said. He climbed to his feet and gave Merlin a small smile, before clapping Arthur on the back. "We'll start asking around tomorrow. In the mean time, let's all stay away from Tristan." He paused thoughtfully. "And Mordred, for that matter."

Merlin certainly agreed with that sentiment.

Lancelot gave his head a little shake and left the cell, plunging Merlin and Arthur into a cold and strained silence. They looked away from each other, both awkward and increasingly uncomfortable.

The adrenaline that had been pulsing through Merlin's veins was gone, leaving him with nothing but dark, icy dread. He shuffled from foot to foot, surprised that Arthur didn't snap at him to stop, a thought that left him saddened, rather than relieved. Things really had changed between them.

Eventually, the blond spoke, apparently unable to stand the quiet, although he usually spent most of his time telling Merlin to shut up. "Look, Emrys," he began, sighing, "about before -"

"I don't want to talk about it," Merlin snapped, closing the conversation before his hurt and anger could resurface. He'd been successfully distracted from the earlier events of the night by Tristan's reveal, but standing alone, face to face with Arthur, was bringing it all flooding back to him. "It's done. We're done."

The blond nodded, and he looked strangely blank, unsurprised. "But if you're going to get through this Tristan and Mordred situation, you're going to have to stay close to me. Because like it or not, you're part of this now," Arthur pointed out, carefully avoiding his gaze. "Allies?"

Merlin stared back at him. He wasn't stupid - he knew that if he was going to get through the whole fiasco, he was going to need Arthur's protection, no matter how much he currently resented him. Mordred's previous attack was hard to forget, and he never wanted to be in that position again.

"Allies," he confirmed, nodding reluctantly.

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><p>Merlin hurried down to breakfast the next morning, still in a state of visible distress. He looked over his shoulder every thirty seconds, as though expecting Tristan to jump out from behind a table, wielding one of his kitchen knives. Arthur had snapped at him to play it cool, but considering the blond was a highly-strung moody back-stabber, Merlin felt justified in ignoring him.<p>

He collapsed down onto his usual cafeteria table without any food, too scared to face Tristan, when Will plopped down next to him. He was shovelling his mouth with porridge, looking as though he didn't have a care in the word.

"Alright?" he said, spraying Merlin with spit.

"Will?" Merlin cried, sounding pathetically relieved to see his friend return. It felt like it had been a lifetime since he'd seen him, when in fact it had only been two very long and incredibly confusing days. "You're back!"

Will rolled his eyes. "Well spotted - as observant as ever."

"How was isolation?"

"Boring," Will grumbled. "There's nothing to do."

Merlin refrained from pointing out that that was probably the point, suddenly wishing he'd been locked in isolation instead. It sounded a lot less stressful. "Well, you'll never guess what's been happening here," he said dryly.

He told Will about the events of the previous two days, watching his friend's mouth open wider and wider with each passing minute. After he had finished, Will floundered for several minutes, seemingly speechless for the first time since Merlin had met him.

"Well, I wasn't expecting that…" was all he could say, scratching his head puzzlingly.

"Really?" said Merlin.

"Well, ok, the whole Arthur and Owain thing doesn't come as a terrible surprise…" Will admitted, ignoring Merlin's wince. "But the rest…wow."

"I don't know what I've done to deserve this - two criminal masterminds after me."

Will snorted. "I'd hardly call Tristan a criminal mastermind." He looked over towards the bar of the cafeteria, watching the server splat porridge onto one prisoner's plate, looking vacant and thoroughly uninterested. "But it's not you who's done anything - they're after Arthur. If they see you distancing yourself from him, they might back off."

"You think I can take that chance," Merlin replied blandly. "I'm involved now whether I like it or not. And Arthur can protect me."

Will raised a doubtful eyebrow, assessing his friend with critical eyes. "Are you sure that's all it is?" he pressed, "You wanting Arthur's protection?"

"What do you mean?" Merlin asked, although he had a feeling he knew where the conversation was going.

"You're not staying close to him because you still…want to be with him?" Will continued, giving up all pretence of subtlety. "Because I did warn you."

"I know," Merlin said sharply, wanting to cut the conversation short before it even began. "I know you were right, and I sort of knew you would be. But I couldn't help it."

Will sighed, turning his gaze to Arthur, who had just walked into the cafeteria with Lancelot in tow. "I just hope that you learned your lesson."

"I did," Merlin said firmly, following his cellmate with curious eyes. Both he and Lancelot seemed to be looking for something, and Merlin didn't realise what it was until their searching eyes landed on him, wide and urgent. Arthur gave his head a quick jerk, gesturing for him to follow them.

He and Lancelot then turned and left, moving into the corridor leading to the showers.

"I've got to go," Merlin said hastily, scrambling to his feet. Will shook his head tiredly but said nothing, giving his friend a small and slightly resigned wave.

Merlin strode across the cafeteria and headed towards the showers, finding Arthur and Lancelot waiting for him in the changing rooms. They were stood in the far corner, away from the few other prisoners who had decided to shower early, conversing in quick, dark tones.

"What?" Merlin called breathlessly, approaching them on shaky legs.

"We know nothing," Lancelot told him, getting directly to the point, not even bothering to sugar coat it. "If anyone in here knows anything about Tristan, they sure as hell aren't telling me."

"Nothing?" Merlin repeated, dread sinking into his stomach. "So, what do we do?"

"'We'?" Arthur laughed disbelievingly.

Lancelot shot him a dangerous look and turned back to Merlin, giving him a helpless shrug. "Use outside contacts."

"Like Gwen," the blond sniped, levelling Lancelot with a steely look. His arms were crossed and his jaw was set, illustrating that he was in an even deadlier mood than he had been the day before. It worried Merlin slightly - Arthur looked positively murderous.

"I already told you no," Lancelot replied sharply, scowling at his friend. "Like she'd be any help anyway; she's a civilian."

Arthur shrugged and looked away.

"I know, how about you ask Uther instead?" Lancelot continued, sniping straight back at him.

"And I already told you _no_!" Arthur threw Lancelot's previous words back in his face, eyes narrowed rather dangerously in his friend's direction. They'd obviously had the same argument before Merlin had arrived, and it had put them both on edge.

"He's the best source we have," Lancelot said, sounding impressively cool and calm compared to Arthur's waspish retorts.

"You're not using Gwen, so I'm not using him," the blond replied stubbornly, brow furrowed and jaw set. "He's the reason my mother is dead. I am never speaking to him again, you know that. Why do you keep pushing it?"

Merlin watched the argument unfold with curious eyes, feeling rather confused. Gwen had told him it was Mordred behind Igraine's death, not gang leader Uther, so why was Arthur blaming his father?

It was strange for Arthur to reveal his motives or reasoning behind something, and Merlin suddenly found himself feeling quite resentful, as the blond had never opened up to him like he did with Lancelot. Apart from when he'd been woozy with drugs, which didn't really count.

"Arthur, we don't have much time," the dark-haired man proclaimed, refusing to back down. He had more nerve than Merlin had originally given him credit for, especially considering he wasn't cowering under Arthur's increasingly murderous stare. "Uther's the only hope we have. Not only is Tristan ready to attack, but no doubt Mordred already has a plot for revenge in the pipeline. Or have you already forgotten yesterday's threats?"

At the mention of the lead druid, a strange light bulb went off in Merlin's head. An idea seemed to materialize out of nowhere. "That's it!" he exclaimed, unable to stop himself. "Mordred!"

Both Arthur and Lancelot turned to stare at him, as though they had completely forgotten he was there.

"Huh?" was all the blond could say in reply.

"Mordred," Merlin repeated clearly, feeling half proud and half sickened by the thoughts rapidly forming in his mind. He was dubious as to whether his plan would work - even if the druids actually agreed - but he was willing to try anything in order to reach some sort of stalemate with the frighteningly dangerous Mordred. "We could ask him."

"Ask him what?"

"To use his outside contacts," Merlin supplied, trying not to flinch at the disbelieving looks the other two were shooting him. "He's in a gang, right? He can get them to find out who's behind all this!"

"Why would Mordred want to help us?" Lancelot asked incredulously, throwing up his arms. "In case you didn't hear, he threatened us yesterday!"

"Yes," Merlin said patiently, waiting for it all to click. "But because he believed it was Arthur that got Morgana sacked, not Tristan. If he knew the truth…"

"…he'd turn on Tristan, not on us," the blond finished, face blank, his eyes looking strangely empty.

Merlin hated it when Arthur's expression was unreadable, but smiled nevertheless, glad someone had got his point.

The moment was ruined, however, as soon as the blond opened his mouth. "No," he said firmly, is tone leaving no room for argument.

Merlin opened his mouth to retort, but Lancelot beat him to it. "It's actually a good idea, Arthur," he said slowly, contemplating the plan.

"How is asking Mordred for help any different than asking Uther?" the blond snapped, unable to hide his anger. His eyes were flashing now, and his shoulders were tense, as though he was attempting to stop himself lashing out. "They're both responsible for what happened to her."

"This isn't about your mother," Lancelot said softly, shaking his head. "This is about us. And we're as good as dead if we don't find out what's going on." He then paused, meeting Arthur's gaze with sharp determined eyes. "If you don't want to ask Uther, then fine, I can't make you. But if you wont ask Mordred, I will."

Heavy silence descended on the three of them, and Merlin could swear that none of them were breathing. Arthur and Lancelot seemed to be engaged in a battle of wills, both staring at each other with mounting tension, neither blinking.

Finally, the blond spoke, shattering the silence. "Fine. But don't expect me to help you."

He turned on a heel and marched away, disappearing out of the changing rooms and into the corridor, banging the door shut behind him.

Lancelot and Merlin looked at each other uncomfortably, both unsure of what to say.

"We need him," Lancelot said at last, in a way that implied numerous meanings. He shook his head, letting out a sigh. "But he wont listen to me."

"What are we going to do?" Merlin asked, feeling completely out of his depth.

"I'll go to Mordred tomorrow," Lancelot replied, drawing himself up. "With or without Arthur's help."

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><p>Merlin returned to the cell that evening, unsure of what to expect. He'd only caught a few glimpses of Arthur throughout the day, and he'd seemed cold and remote. Lancelot had been strangely absent, leaving Merlin assume he was trying to find out all he could about Tristan, obviously without Arthur's help.<p>

It left Merlin feeling strangely bitter. Lancelot was making more of an effort to protect their hides than Arthur was, and although Merlin knew the blond had his reasoning, he couldn't help but resent him for it. Making an effort was the least Arthur could do after what he'd done to him, regardless of his personal issues.

He walked into the cell with his mind decided, ready to confront the blond about his complete and utter uselessness, regardless of the consequences.

He walked straight up to Arthur's bed, where the blond was lounging motionlessly, and sat down, ignoring the look of incredulousness shot in his direction. But Arthur said nothing, soon turning his gaze back towards the ceiling and ignoring Merlin completely, as though he simply couldn't be bothered with him.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, Merlin staring intently at Arthur's unmoving form while the blond stared steadfastly at the ceiling, purposely avoiding his eyes.

"You're being very selfish, you know," Merlin said eventually, his voice low and musing, waiting for the inevitable response. Whether it was anger or indifference, Merlin didn't care - he had things he needed to say.

But Arthur merely smiled icily, turning his head to stare at his cellmate. "Well, that's me: cold and heartless."

"You're not heartless," Merlin replied with absolute certainty, weirdly angered that the blond thought such a thing about himself. He was many things - moody, insensitive, cold and bitter, to name but a few - but he wasn't heartless.

"You can't believe that," Arthur said disbelievingly, looking away and up at the ceiling. He gave a short, sarcastic laugh, shaking his head. "Not after what I did to you."

"If I thought you were heartless, I would never have slept with you in the first place," Merlin said. "I have _some_ standards."

The blond raised an eyebrow, but his expression was otherwise blank. "Then you see something in me that most people don't."

"I do like to see the best in people," Merlin admitted, gazing at the blond meaningfully. "Sometimes beyond the point of reason."

Arthur let out a laugh, but it was without humour. "And look where it got you."

"Why did you do it?" Merlin asked, referring to the incident between Arthur and Owain, unable to hold back his morbid curiosity. He wasn't really sure he wanted to know, but found himself asking anyway, despite his mostly ignored better judgement. "Did you not care?"

The blond was silent for a long time, evidently deciding whether to answer. "I did care," he admitted at last, determinedly not looking in Merlin's direction. "I actually liked being with you, annoying though you are. I just didn't think you'd mind….Or I guess it didn't occur to me that you might - nobody ever has before."

Merlin mouthed wordlessly, unsure of what to say. A part of him was glad that Arthur hadn't tried to hurt him intentionally, but it didn't lessen the pain of the betrayal, whether it had been deliberate or not. "I did mind. I minded a lot," he said, pointing out the obvious.

"Then I guess it's good it happened sooner rather than later," Arthur replied, blinking up at the ceiling. "You're actually a good person, and you deserve better."

Merlin's heart missed several beats, but he attempted to recover himself, mind set. "What I deserve," he said determinedly, unwilling to be deterred by Arthur's admission, "is your help."

"I _can't_," the blond muttered, voice suddenly low and hoarse. "I can't go to him."

"No," Merlin said calmly, ignoring the frantic pounding of his heart, unable to let this go. "You won't. There's a difference."

"I'm sorry," was all Arthur could say, sounding more heartfelt than Merlin had ever heard him. His voice was rough and raw, stripped back completely, although his face was still and unblinking. He seemed to be talking about more than just his refusal to talk to Mordred, and was indirectly referring to the whole Owain incident.

Merlin inhaled a lungful of air, determined to steel himself against the emotions bursting from his chest. "Not as sorry as you will be if Tristan succeeds in what he's planning. He'll destroy us all."

Arthur closed his eyes. "I know."

But Merlin pressed forward, knowing he had the blond vulnerable and more susceptible than he'd ever been before. "There are some things you can't stop," he said, making a vague reference to Igraine's death, knowing that Arthur must feel guilty about what happened. "But there are some things you can. This is one of them. If you care about me and Lancelot at all, you _will_ help us."

They descended into a painful silence, Arthur turning the words over in his mind. Finally he spoke, sounded strangely resigned. "Mordred might not even want to get involved," he said, giving his shoulders a lifeless shrug.

Merlin smiled, taking it as a signal of defeat. "You never know," he replied.

To be continued…

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><p><em><strong>AN** I struggled to make Merlin's feelings both clear and believable this chapter: how he's hurt and angry by what happened, but he knows he needs to put it aside for now if he wants to survive. And there was some actual honestly from Arthur this chap as well! AND LANCELOT HAS BEEN PROMOTED FROM BACKGROUND CHARACTER AT LAST._

_So the third party has been revealed at last, and Tristan is the henchmen. IT'S ALWAYS THE CAFETERIA WORKERS. No prizes for guessing who's his master._

_Hours to write, minutes to review, so please R&R! :)_


	10. The Unholy Alliance

GENRE: Modern AU  
>DISCLAIMER: I own nothing.<p>

SUMMARY: Merlin Emrys is dead. No really. He's just called the most powerful prisoner in jail a prat. A prat he just happens to be cellmates with. Cue fireworks.

_**NOTE:** Embezzlement defination is needed this chapter - the misappropriation of funds that have been entrusted to one for care or management._

**A/N** Yes, I know, I am a horrible, horrible person for this massive wait between chapters. I'm sorry! I was quite ill for a while and I've just been focusing on getting back to work and sorting my life out. I hope people are still interested in the story :) I'll try to update ASAP!

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><p><strong>Cellmate <strong>

**Chapter 10 - The Unholy Alliance **

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Lancelot asked the next morning, shooting Arthur a nervous glance.

The blond rolled his eyes, though despite his efforts to hide it, he too looked slightly anxious. "You're the one who wanted me to do it," he reminded them, unable to hold back a glare of resentment. His mood was so foul that it didn't seem to matter that it was Merlin and not Lancelot who had roped him into the whole thing, as he seemed quite happy to take his anger out on whoever was closest.

"I know." Lancelot nodded, rubbing his hands together, bubbling with nervous energy. "But if you can't handle it, the last thing we need is for it to dissolve into an argument." He gave the Arthur a pointed look, only for it to transform into a rather nasty glare when the blond stared determinedly in the opposite direction, deliberately avoiding his eyes. "Or worse, a fight."

"I'll behave myself, I promise," Arthur replied, although it probably didn't help that he sounded somewhat sarcastic.

"So," Merlin interrupted loudly, before Lancelot could retort, "you told him to meet us here? Is that a good idea?"

The were stood once again in the empty shower changing rooms, surrounded by crumbled white towels and a disconcertingly appropriate mystical steam. It was already giving Merlin the heebie-jeebies and nothing had happened yet.

Lancelot shrugged, giving the changing rooms a quick once over. "It's the only place without proper surveillance." He made a vague expression of distaste and shook his head, looking resigned.

"That's what I mean," Merlin replied dully. "I remember the last time someone had a confrontation with Mordred in here, Arthur ended up with concussion."

Arthur turned to glare at him. "Yeah, because your loony friend distracted me," the blond snapped, defensive, crossing his arms and pouting slightly. He was evidently remembering cornering Mordred in the showers a few weeks previously, when Will had barrelled in and surprised him, allowing the druid to catch him off guard and smack him against the wall.

Merlin sighed. "His name is Will." He paused, before adding belatedly, "and he's not a loon."

Arthur muttered under his breath, a word that sounded suspiciously like 'whatever', but said nothing more, frowning anxiously at the changing room door. He looked strangely nervous, completely rigid and on guard, a sight that sent Merlin's own survival instincts into overdrive.

Before anyone could say anything further, however, the changing rooms door opened with a soft creak, plunging the three of them into silence. They watched Mordred enter with wary eyes, flanked by two other druids who Merlin vaguely recognised from around the prison.

Mordred seemed to have recovered his composure from the day before, his face cool and impassive, though his shoulders were steeled and his back was ramrod straight. He approached Merlin, Arthur and Lancelot with deliberate slowness, as though expecting them to launch an unexpected attack and tackle him to the ground.

Although Arthur obviously appeared to be contemplating the idea, the three of them did nothing, waiting until the druids stopped in front of them, a good two feet away from Arthur's clenched fists. Mordred did not speak, merely gazing at the blond with an unreadable expression, waiting for him to talk.

Fortunately it was Lancelot who spoke in Arthur's place, putting his calmest and most diplomatic voice to good use. "We have something to tell you," he announced, faltering for only a moment when Mordred's all seeing gaze flickered towards him. "We don't want any trouble. In fact, what we want is your help."

Even the usually indifferent Mordred was unable to stop his eyebrows shooting up his forehead, evidently thrown by Lancelot's words. "My help?" he echoed, before he managed to recover his composure. "Why would _I_ help _you_?"

"Because in this instance, we're on the same side," Lancelot replied.

Mordred laughed, a cold twinkling sound that sent shivers down Merlin's spine. "I find that hard to believe."

"It's true," Arthur chimed, speaking up for the first time since the druids arrival, meeting Mordred's chilling gaze. They seemed to be squaring each other up, eyes rarely straying from each others faces, the connection dark and intense.

"What do you mean?" Mordred asked slowly, eyebrows knitting together in confusion. It was strange the effect the expression had on the druid's face; for the first time, he almost looked human. And young. Very young.

"Someone is plotting against us," Lancelot said, looking from Merlin and Arthur grouped together, to three druids stood opposite them. "_All_ of us."

"Tristan," Merlin supplied, feeling as though he should be the one to explain the details. It was him after all, who had discovered the plot in the first place. "He's working for someone on the outside. Someone who attacked Lancelot, got Morgana fired and is playing you and Arthur against each other."

Mordred eyes were narrowed and his lips pursed, face taking on the same strained expression Arthur used when he was trying to control himself. "How do _you_ know this?" he snipped, looking Merlin up and down with an expression of cool distain.

"I overheard it on the phone."

"And you expect me to take your word for it?" Mordred laughed incredulously, and his eyes gleamed in a rather disconcerting way. "Do you think me a fool?"

"No, we don't expect you to take our word for it," Arthur said, in a rather stony voice, deliberately ignoring the latter question. "We expect you to confirm it for yourself."

"By using your outside contacts," Lancelot continued. "Get someone to find out what's going on. Guaranteed we're not wrong."

Mordred turned his stare to each of them individually, assessing them with narrowed eyes, suspicious but slightly unsure. It was a minute or two before he spoke again, and although he was calm, his voice held a very dangerous edge, dripping with warning. "If you're lying…" he muttered, letting the sentence hang suggestively.

"You'll what?" Arthur snipped sarcastically, apparently unable to stop himself. Merlin was hardly surprised; it actually amazed him that Arthur's self-control had held out for as long as it did.

But Lancelot was less than impressed. He elbowed the blond pointedly in the ribs before turning back to Mordred, eyes wide and earnest. "We're not," he claimed.

* * *

><p>"So, what do you think Mordred will do when the whole Tristan thing is confirmed?" Merlin asked as he, Lancelot and Arthur walked into the communal area later that day.<p>

"No idea," Lancelot replied, giving his shoulders a shrug. "He might want to try and handle it himself."

"If only," Arthur muttered, waving two prisoners out of their seats. They gave him a frightened glance and scuttled away, allowing him to collapse across the two-seater with a sigh, head tilted back. "It would solve all our problems. They could destroy each other for us."

Merlin glared, feeling affronted on behalf of the people thrown out of their places. "That was rude," he commented, meeting Arthur's eyes. A small part of him couldn't help but want to pick fights with Arthur for no real reason since the whole Owain ordeal, needing a way to vent his anger and frustration, but the blond was usually too clever to rise to the bait. And it appeared this time was no exception.

The blond merely blinked confusedly for a moment, before shuffling over and leaving Merlin a space. "Oh, sorry," he said carelessly, giving the new place a pointed wave. "There you go."

Merlin rolled his eyes, but sat down anyway, both pleased and indignant that Arthur had made room for him. "Not what I meant," he pointed out, although he feared the smile spreading across his face ruined the effect of his waspish words.

Arthur shrugged and looked up at Lancelot, who was watching them with raised eyebrows. "What?" he snapped, sounding rather defensive.

Lancelot held up his hands in surrender, but his lips curved into a smile. "Nothing," he said innocently, eyes twinkling in an annoyingly good-looking way. He really was disgustingly perfect.

Arthur was about to reply, no doubt in a rude and offensive manner, when a cry of "Merlin!" interrupted his words.

Merlin looked up and saw Will moving towards him, looking nothing short of gob-smacked to see him. "Will," he greeted, smiling at the sight of his friend, pretending that hanging out with Arthur and Lancelot was nothing out of the ordinary.

Will stopped in front of the three of them, his eyes flittering across a still-grinning Lancelot and Merlin and Arthur slouched next to each other across the seats. "What are you doing here?" he asked, giving his head a small shake.

Merlin frowned. "What d'you mean?"

"You don't like the communal area," Will pointed out. "You said it was full of crazy criminals." His gaze slid over to Arthur, who was watching him with raised eyebrows, looking affronted.

"Oh," Merlin replied, wanting to say something before Arthur snapped in offence. He really didn't want it to dissolve into an argument. Or worse, a fight. "We were just talking." He waved his hands at the scowling blond and a smiling Lancelot, attempting to look casual. "Will, you know Arthur and Lancelot?"

The three of them nodded at each other, both Will and the blond looking distinctly uncomfortable. It reminded Merlin that it was not the first time the two of them had met, and the now familiar spurt of anger he now recognised as jealously wrenched at his gut.

"Lancelot's been helping with the whole Mordred thing," he explained, impressed that he sounded almost blasé. "And I suppose you already know Arthur? I might of mentioned him." Will smiled at that, looking longsuffering, but Merlin wasn't done. He saw the opportunity, and with a burst of anger at the thought of Owain, said pleasantly, "But of course, you know him more intimately than that. Mostly because Arthur's a bit of a slut, who just can't keep it in his pants."

Lancelot burst out laughing, making no attempt to muffle his cries, head thrown back and shoulders shaking. Will and Arthur however, both blinked at Merlin in amazement, mouths open wide.

"Merlin!" Arthur cried incredulously, unable to say anything more, looking both shocked and rather insulted.

"Oh, like you didn't have it coming," Merlin replied, shrugging his shoulders.

"Come on," Lancelot laughed, as Arthur glared. "You deserved that at least."

"Hey!" the blond snapped, swivelling towards his friend. "Who's side are you on?"

Lancelot blinked innocently, and gave Arthur a cheeky smile. "Merlin's."

Merlin was unable to contain a laugh and gave the disgruntled blond a smirking smile. Even Will looked pleasantly surprised, giving Lancelot an appraising glance and attempting to stifle a grin.

"Now I know why we don't hang out more often," Arthur snipped at Merlin, folding his arms and pouting in a rather attractive manner. He looked at his cellmate through the corner of his eye and hesitated for a moment, a frown curving at his lips. "So, after you've insulted me, are we even now?"

Merlin raised his eyebrows, smiling slightly. "After what you did to me, no way."

The blond grumbled under his breath, looking even more put out. "This has been such a crap day," he moaned, sighing in an overly dramatic manner. He slumped backwards and looked so sombre, that for one very brief moment, Merlin felt almost guilty.

"Really? I think you handled the whole Mordred thing well," he was forced to admit, giving credit where credit was due. He knew how hard it had been for Arthur to face the druids who supposedly murdered his mother, and was thankful that he'd actually made the effort. "Didn't try to kill him or anything. You hid your emotions well."

Arthur let out a strained laughed and looked away. "Yeah, I'm good at that," he said.

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><p>The next morning Arthur and Merlin walked down to breakfast together, both silent. The atmosphere in the cell the previous day had been comfortable, but not at all intimate. They spoke to each other when necessary, both calm and polite, although it was mostly speculation concerning Mordred and whether he would help them. They seemed to have reached a silent understanding in which neither would mention the Owain situation again, disliking the strain it put on their almost friendly alliance.<p>

But Merlin had not forgotten what happened (mostly thanks to Will's constant reminders) and although he enjoyed Arthur's company, he was unwilling to allow the 'relationship' to go further again. No matter how much his hands itched to touch the blond and how much his heart spluttered uncontrollably in his presence. He would just have to stay strong. Even when Arthur was walking all warm and familiar at his side.

The two of them entered the cafeteria together for the first time since Merlin's arrival that morning, drawing a few bemused stares. But they had barely moved two feet before Mordred was stood in front of them, as though summoned from thin air.

Merlin jumped and squawked in surprise, knowing that the druid's dramatic entrance would haunt his nightmares for weeks to come, his heart spluttering in fright. But Mordred only had eyes for Arthur, his jaw set and expression earnest.

"We were right, yes?" the blond guessed, just as Lancelot appeared at his side, evidently having noticed the encounter.

"Yes," Mordred said shortly, his voice barely containing his suppressed rage. "Showers, now." He then turned on a heel and headed towards the exit, leaving Merlin blinking bemusedly at his abrupt disappearance.

Arthur on the other hand, was glaring at the back of the druid's head, unimpressed with the order. But he followed nevertheless, exchanging an unreadable glance with Lancelot as they walked, clenching his fists and grinding his teeth in thinly concealed rage.

They marched towards the changing rooms in sync, all three of them anxious, but all unwilling to voice their uncertainties aloud. Even Lancelot had no words of encouragement and looked rather sickly, his usually bronzed skin pale and drawn.

When they arrived the druid was stood alone, waiting for them in the middle of the room. His arms hung limply at his sides and his face was shadowed, concealing his expression from their view; he looked as eerie as ever.

"So, what did you find out?" Arthur asked immediately, evidently the only person on the planet completely immune to Mordred's creepiness.

"_I_ found out nothing," Mordred stated calmly, tilting his head. "It was Morgana who discovered the truth."

"Which is?" Lancelot questioned, looking eager now.

"You were right about Tristan." Mordred gave Merlin a swift nod, although his eyes did not leave Arthur. "He's working for a person on the outside. And there are…rumours, that the person is Nimueh."

Both Arthur and Lancelot balked, but nowhere near as much as Merlin, whose jaw had hit the floor, his heart missing several beats.

"Nimueh?" Arthur cried, fisting his hands into his hair and pulling desperately. He mouthed wordlessly for several moments, pacing backwards and forwards. "Of course, Nimueh. _Of course_!"

Nobody appeared to notice Merlin's own surprise until he spoke, voice faint and hands shaking. His heart was lodged somewhere in in his throat, and he was fairly sure his stomach had just dropped through the floor. "Who's Nimueh?" he asked, unsure he even wanted to know.

"Another gang leader," Lancelot replied, sounding tired. "She and Uther are old enemies. Makes sense that she'd want to destroy Arthur. Why she'd want to include Mordred though, I have no idea."

"It can't be," Merlin said disbelievingly, more to himself than the room at large, shaking his head. Mordred turned to look at him, the only one seemingly noting his distress. His eyes saw everything.

"Can't be what?" he asked.

"I know the name Nimueh," Merlin admitted, causing everyone in the room to swivel towards him. Even Arthur seemed to have forgotten his own shock at he turned to regard him, looking bewildered. Merlin laughed shakily and raised a hand to his face, attempting to pull himself together. "I should do. It's the reason I'm in here."

Arthur's mouth opened, forehead creasing. "What do you mean?"

"I'm in prison because I was convicted of fraud," he explained, the words strange on his tongue, his brain functioning on autopilot. It felt as though he was disconnected from his body, totally out of his control. "Embezzlement, identity theft…the whole shebang."

They all blinked back at him, looking even more confused than they had moments before.

"Really? I didn't know you had it in you," Arthur commented, in a pleasantly surprised tone.

"I don't," Merlin replied sharply. "I was set up. Guess who by?"

Lancelot appeared to be the only one who understood where his explanation was going, comprehension slowly dawning on his features. "Nimueh…?" he breathed, mouth opening into a wide 'oh'.

"Yes," Merlin smiled, shrugging his shoulders. "I was an assistant for a financial advisor before I came here. Handled big sums of money. Until one day I noticed one somebody taking money from accounts they weren't supposed to and moving them into their own. Into accounts under the same two names. Nimueh and Afanc."

"Afanc?" Lancelot questioned.

"Nimueh's second in command," Mordred supplied, the only one not to look completely surprised, as though things like this were part of his everyday conversations. He was watching the proceedings with a blank expression, although he appeared to be listening closely to every word Merlin spoke, mentally filing it away.

"What happened?" Arthur asked, watching Merlin curiously.

"I confronted them about it. Or I got a meeting with Afanc anyway. I was obviously not worthy enough to meet Nimueh. That's why I didn't recognise her."

"Oh, Merlin," the blond sighed exasperatedly, shaking his head. "You confronted him?"

Merlin gave out a rather choked laugh. "Yes, it was stupid, I know. I guess I thought there had been a mistake or something," he admitted, almost cringing at his own blinding naivety; it was a character trait he was really going to have to work on. "But next thing I know, I'm getting arrested for the embezzlement, as well as identify theft and forgery."

"They set you up," Arthur summarised, stating a fact rather than asking a question. "Said it was you who did it."

Merlin nodded.

"Could you not prove it was them?" Lancelot asked, touching his chin. He was regarding Merlin was poorly disguised sympathy, as though he was a kicked puppy, left out in the street.

"If I could prove it was them, I wouldn't be in here, would I?" It came out far harsher than he intended, so Merlin tried to smile apologetically, but he was afraid it came out as more of a grimace.

"No, I guess not." Lancelot sighed.

"Do you know what they were embezzling the money for?" Arthur asked, leaning forwards.

Merlin shrugged helplessly, and said, "No."

The three of them then stood in silence, all looking away from each other, each thinking everything over. The quiet was strained and heavy, casting an even darker atmosphere on the room, not helped by the dirty looks Arthur and Mordred kept shooting each other when nobody else was looking.

Unable to take the tension, Merlin spoke again, taking in a long deep breath. "I never knew how they managed it," he mused. "But I guess now I do." He paused, looking round at the room, unable to miss the irony. "They're gang members."

"Nimueh is a leader," Mordred corrected, before looking pointedly at Arthur. "Gang leaders often set people up for things they didn't do."

Arthur's head snapped up and he scowled, immediately recognising the jibe. "What's that supposed to mean?" he asked, his voice carrying a dangerous undercurrent.

"You know what it means." Mordred raised his chin, unwilling to back down from the challenge.

Lancelot sighed. "Please don't start, guys!" he cried, only to be ignored.

"Uther didn't set you up," the blond snapped, despite Lancelot's placating hand on his arm, apparently unable to let the words go. Even the distraction of Merlin's arrest appeared not to be enough to keep his anger at Mordred at bay for long. "He got you arrested for crimes you _did_ commit."

Mordred drew himself up to his full height, which wasn't actually that tall, before looking Arthur directly in the eye. "But only because he thought I did something I didn't. I wasn't responsible for what happened to your mother."

"You really expect me to believe that?" Arthur hissed. "If it wasn't you, then who was it?"

"Oh, I'll take three guesses," Merlin said loudly, before Mordred had a chance to reply. He was fairly sure it had been intended as a rhetorical question, but as soon as Arthur had voiced it, everything seemed to slot together in Merlin's mind. It was so obvious; why hadn't it occurred to anyone before?

They all turned to stare at him, looking completely flabbergasted that he'd interrupted their argument.

"What?" Arthur asked, thrown.

"I wonder who it could be…" Merlin said sarcastically, unable to believe that it hadn't occurred to anyone before now. "Obviously someone who wanted to set Mordred up and destroy Arthur at the same time. Who could that be? Hmm, I don't know…maybe, _Nimueh_!….My god. You call yourselves criminals."

The room descended into silence as everyone stared at each other, contemplating Merlin's words.

Finally, Lancelot spoke, sounding bemused. "Oh, yeah…"

But Arthur scoffed, looking disbelieving. "Oh, you don't believe that, do you?" he snapped, talking to the room at large. "Of course Mordred is going to deny it." He waved a hand in the druid's direction, ignoring the glares sent his way. "And even if he is telling the truth and the druids weren't behind my mother's death, we can't just assume that it was Nimueh."

"Why not?" Mordred hissed, eyes narrowing. "You just assumed it was me. With no proof!"

Arthur turned his head to stare at the druid, immediately rounding on him. "I had nothing to do with your imprisonment! My father was the one who claimed you were behind my mother's death. And for once, he was probably right," he snapped, lurching forwards, as though he physically couldn't stop himself.

Mordred met Arthur half way, meeting his eyes with a steely gaze. "Why do think they never had any evidence to link me to Igraine's death, Pendragon?" He paused for dramatic effect, leaving Arthur breathing loudly across his face, the sound loud and unnerving in the quiet of the room. "Because there wasn't any! I'm only in prison because Uther got me charged for different crimes!"

Merlin sighed. They really were just going round in circles.

"Yeah, and the reason my father got you sent down was because he believed you were responsible!"

"But he was _wrong_!" Mordred's voice had reached whole new decibels, causing Merlin and Lancelot to leap back slightly in surprise.

But before Arthur could reply, Merlin interrupted, his frustration finally getting the better of him. This was getting them _nowhere_. "God, no wonder Nimueh succeeded!" he yelped, unable to stop himself. He shook his head and looked between them, throwing up his arms in disbelief. "You're both too busy hating on each other, it never even occurred to either of you that the other one might be innocent!"

The room descended into silence once more, with both Mordred and Arthur staring at Merlin in stunned disbelief. The thought evidently hadn't occurred to either of them….At all.

"Look, all of this is irrelevant anyway," Lancelot said after a minute, always the voice of reason. "We need to focus on stopping Tristan and Nimueh. We need a plan."

Arthur and Mordred looked away from each other, neither saying anything. But Merlin took in a deep breath, looking around at them all. He took a moment to steel himself before saying, "Well, luckily, I think I might just have one."

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><p>"You can't do this, Merlin," Arthur snapped half an hour later, slamming the cell door shut after they'd entered. His cheeks were flushed and his jaw was set, meaning he was angry, upset and determined, an incredibly dangerous combination. Merlin knew the signs now.<p>

"Why not?" Merlin replied, with far more casualness than he actually felt.

"Why?" Arthur laughed, but it was high, short and clipped. "Because it's dangerous. I can't believe you just volunteered for that!"

Merlin whirled to face him, throwing his arms up in frustration. "This whole thing is dangerous! There's no changing that!"

But Arthur ignored him, crossing his arms and glowering at him. "You should stay out of it." He sounded cold and calm, but he appeared to be working hard to keep it that way. His brow with shining with sweat and a muscle was jumping in his jaw, revealing he was not quite as indifferent as he suddenly seemed.

Merlin shook his head slowly and ran a nervous hand through his hair. He wasn't sure what to think about anything anymore, and the day's events had only confused him further. "It's too late to stay out of it, Arthur," he snipped, unable to contain his aggravation. "I became a part of this as soon as I got involved with you."

The blond paused, and his eyes skittered away. His anger seemed to deflate. "I know," he said lowly, screwing his face up in distaste. "Exactly. You think I want to be responsible if something happens to you?"

The change in Arthur's demeanour caused Merlin to double-take, but he gathered himself quickly, attempting to keep his own uncertainties out of his voice. "Nothing's going to happen to me. The plan will work."

Arthur groaned, running his hands down his face. "You don't know that!" he snapped, his own feelings evidently getting the better of him. "Stop being so naive!"

Merlin straightened defensively, anger coiling in his stomach. "Naïve?" he repeated, surprised by how hollow and cold his voice sounded. It wasn't long before it cracked, however, overcome with emotion. "Stop telling me what to do! You have no right! I can do what I want!"

"And you'll get yourself killed!" Arthur cried, looking completely exasperated, as though Merlin was a small child he was babysitting, incapable of looking after himself.

"And you care?" Merlin snapped, although it was a rhetorical question. He spoke again before the blond could reply, unable to stop himself bringing up their old argument. "As you so kindly pointed out, I am not your boyfriend! You fucked up any say you had in my life when you fucked Owain!"

Arthur rolled his eyes and let out a cry of frustration, looking towards the heavens. "Oh, please don't turn this into a domestic, Emrys," he said. "I'm just trying to stop you from making a stupid mistake!"

"It's not a mistake!" Merlin bawled his fists and narrowed his eyes, almost shaking with suppressed anger. Arthur had absolutely _no right _to tell him what to do. "It's the only plan we have! It _has_ to work!"

"This isn't a mafia movie! Just because you're all good and noble doesn't mean the plan will work. This is real life and it's doubtful that any of us will get a happy-ending!"

"You think I don't know that?" Merlin cried, barely aware that his voice was growing gradually louder. "If there was such things as happy endings, I wouldn't be stuck in this HELL-HOLE WITH YOU!"

Arthur said nothing, watching his cellmate with the maddeningly empty expression he used when trying to hide something. He stared at Merlin breathing raggedly with blank eyes, lip curling and shoulders steeled. "Fine," he muttered at last, turning towards his bed. "If you want to go ahead with the plan, I can't stop you."

"No, you can't," Merlin said unnecessarily, calming down somewhat, now the festering frustration was out of his system.

"I guess I have no right to be concerned," Arthur sighed, shaking his head.

"No, you d-don't," Merlin replied automatically, although his voice stuttered slightly at the end. Was Arthur actually admitting he was concerned? Or was the ringing in his ears making him hear things?

"I was just…." Arthur broke off and looked away, laughing in a disturbingly dark way. "You know what, never mind." He climbed onto his bed and led back, turning to face the wall, evidently trying to dismiss his cellmate.

But Merlin was anything if not persistent. "You were just…what?" he asked, curiosity getting the better of him. He was still angry, but couldn't help but want to know what Arthur was going to say; he was annoyed by his own weakness.

"Nothing," the blond muttered, so quietly Merlin could barely here it. "You better go to bed, Emrys. You've made yourself a vital part of the plan; you need your beauty sleep."

"Don't tell me what to do," Merlin said automatically, although his voice lacked its previous bite. He fell silent for a moment and turned Arthur's words over in his mind, trying to piece together what the blond appeared unwilling to say. Finally, he came to the only conclusion he could, heart pounding excitedly in his chest. "You're worried…about me…."

"I'm not worried about you," the blond snapped instinctively, but there was an undercurrent to his voice that had Merlin twitching happily. Despite what the Arthur had done to him, he just couldn't help the hope bubbling in his chest; his traitorous heart appeared to have a mind of its own.

"Yes, you are," he said, certain now, unable to stop himself smiling in glee. "You're worried about me." He repeated the words and drew them out, pleased with how they sounded on his tongue, knowing his voice sounded supremely smug but completely incapable of stopping himself.

"No, I'm not." The denial was weaker now, more tired.

Merlin grinned, feeling victorious. "Yes, you are."

Arthur said nothing for a long moment, until finally, "Well, maybe a little," he admitted reluctantly, still facing the wall. "You just better hope the plan works."

TBC...

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><p>AN Very plotty chapter, sorry about that! When I originally wrote this chapter I really struggled with it, which I could really tell when I reread and tried to edit it. I tried my best with editing it, but I'm still not happy :/

I just want to say thanks to the people who are sticking with this story, I know my absence must have been annoying! I'm going to try and get all the chapters of this fic uploaded ASAP, as well as uploading the rest of my Merlin stories to this account.

Please R&R!


	11. Criminal Masterminds

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing but the plot blah blah blah

A/N Thanks for all the kind reviews, I really do appreciate them! :)

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><p><strong>Cellmate<strong>

**Chapter 11 - Criminal Masterminds**

"Are you sure you can do this, Merlin?" Lancelot asked, hovering nervously at his side.

"Yeah," Merlin replied, sounding far more certain than he felt. He gave Lancelot a small smile, attempting to look optimistic. "It's not like Tristan can actually kill me here, right? Committing murder in a prison is never a good idea."

"Yeah, well, nobody ever claimed Tristan was the sharpest tool in the shed," Arthur mumbled quietly, looking away from his cellmate. He was stood slightly to the side with his arms crossed, bouncing his knee anxiously and shuffling from foot to foot. A posture that hardly inspired confidence.

"Ha ha," Merlin replied sarcastically, although he knew that Arthur probably hadn't been joking.

"And lets not forget," Mordred smiled, in a way that was neither kind nor reassuring, "Tristan still attacked Lancelot in prison. Almost gave him brain damage."

Merlin choked, turning to the druid with wide, round eyes, voice high and strained. "Is that supposed to be comforting?"

Mordred smirked, face contorting in a way that looked faintly menacing. "No," he replied simply.

"Oh, shut it," Arthur snapped, rounding on the druid as Merlin's face crumpled. "This is hard enough for Merlin. Nobody asked for your opinion!"

"On the contrary," Mordred replied, "you asked for my help."

"And this is helping how?" Arthur sniped, eyes flicking up and down the druid's body with an expression of deepest loathing.

"Like you're any better," Mordred sneered, grinding his teeth so audibly it made Merlin cringe. "You've been making snarky remarks to try and put him off all morning." He gave Merlin a throwaway look before turning back to Arthur, shrugging his shoulders. "If anyone's not helping the plan, it's you."

"Fuck the plan," the blond hissed, "and fuck you!"

"Your concern for Emrys is touching." Mordred smirked, tone mocking. "Sickeningly touching."

"Right!" Lancelot cried, in a strangely high-pitched voice, throwing up his arms. "Enough! Neither of you are helping. Merlin needs to focus! For a few minutes, please, try not to argue!"

Arthur took in a deep breath and looked away again, mumbling "right, sorry," very quietly under his breath. But Mordred did no such thing, merely shrugging his shoulders and turning towards the wall, looking unconcerned. Not that Merlin expected anything less.

"You OK?" Lancelot asked, giving a small, reassuring smile as Merlin jerked his head. "Just relax and make sure you're clear on the plan."

Merlin bobbed his head again, and took in a long, deep breath. He closed his head and thought back to the previous day, running the whole discussion of the plan through in his mind…

_**The Previous Day **_

…_."Look, all of this is irrelevant anyway," Lancelot said after a minute, always the voice of reason. "We need to focus on stopping Tristan and Nimueh. We need a plan."_

_Arthur and Mordred looked away from each other, neither saying anything. _

_But Merlin took in a deep breath, looking around at them all. He took a moment to steel himself before saying, "Well, luckily, I think I might just have one."_

_Both Mordred and Arthur looked quite surprised to hear this, both turning to look at him with expressions of varying scepticism. Lancelot on the other hand, looked interested, head cocked sideways in consideration. "You do?" he asked, smiling slightly. "Well, what is it?"_

_Merlin paused for a moment, trying to figure out the logistics in his mind. He waited for a minute before he turned to Mordred, voice low and musing. "Do you think Tristan will know about all of Nimueh's dealings? Her illegal ones?" he asked, figuring the druid would be the one most likely to know. "Like know how she set me up?"_

_Mordred stared at him with his forehead creased and his eyes narrowed suspiciously, considering Merlin's words. "Yes," he answered at last, drawing the word out slowly on his tongue. _

"_What makes you say that?" Arthur asked incredulously, shaking his head. "Why would he know all about Nimueh's dealings? He's just a minion."_

"_No, he's not," Mordred argued, standing to attention. He turned to look Arthur straight in the eye, lip curling smugly. "Why do you think Nimueh came into the prison to see him personally?" He paused, allowing the question to sink in before throwing Arthur a superior glance and answering it himself. "Apparently they were lovers."_

_The blond scowled. "And Morgana told you this?"_

"_Yes," Mordred snapped. "I trust Morgana."_

_Arthur looked away, and muttered under his breath, "Yeah, well, I don't."_

"_So," Lancelot said loudly, attempting to drown out Arthur's less-than-flattering private mumblings, eager to prevent another fight. "You think Tristan will know all about Nimueh's illegal plots because they were together?"_

"_Yes."_

"_Hmm," Arthur mused, smiling darkly. "Planning people's murders together must make for really interesting pillow-talk."_

_Lancelot held back a smile, looking as though he wasn't sure whether to be amused or disturbed by Arthur's words. But Merlin ignored him, getting straight back to the point. _

"_Just because they were…lovers," he said, looking pointedly at Arthur, "doesn't mean she ever told him anything." He watched the blond look away before speaking again, knowing his point had been made. "But it's the only thing we have to go on. Tristan is the only access we have to Nimueh in here." _

"_Right…" Lancelot agreed, nodding his head. "So, how do we use him?" _

"_Well, we know that Nimueh committed crimes when she set me up. We have a starting point. So, all we need to do is get enough evidence to get her arrested," Merlin explained, realising that he'd just made the whole thing sound ridiculously simple. "We use Tristan and hope he knows about Nimueh's illegal activities. We get him to reveal the truth."_

"_Well, for a start, Tristan would never do that," Arthur pointed out, shrugging his shoulders. "And even if he did, it wouldn't be enough to get Nimueh arrested."_

"_Maybe not," Merlin admitted, looking around at the group. "But it's a start. If we get him to reveal how she set me up, we can use the information to discover the truth….Maybe Morgana can use it to gather real evidence against Nimueh. Enough to get her arrested."_

_Everyone in the room fell silent, thinking things over. Merlin knew it was a long shot, but with all of them confined to prison, their options were frustratingly limited. Tristan was pretty much the only lead they had to go on. _

_Merlin waited patiently for someone to say something, waiting for the idea to be shot down, when to his great surprise, Mordred spoke up, dubiously voicing his support. "That might work," he said slowly, throwing Merlin a surprised look. "_If_ we can Tristan to confess. But if he _does_, Morgana will know what she's looking for and __maybe be able to find something to incriminate Nimueh."_

"_Ok," Arthur said slowly, as though reluctant to agree with Mordred. "Then how do we get Tristan to talk…?"_

"_We trick him. Manipulate him. Bait him. Whatever it takes," Merlin replied, aware that he was being vague but unable to give any definite answers. He hadn't quite thought the plan through in major detail, and he was well aware luck would have to be very much on their side in order for it to be successful. _

_Arthur evidently thought the same thing. "He'd never tell us. He'd know we'd use it against Nimueh," he said. _

"_He'd never tell _you_," Merlin corrected, drawing himself up. "But I'm not part of either of your gangs. I doubt Tristan thinks of me as much of a threat. Maybe I can trick him into telling me." _

_Mordred laughed coldly. "_You_?" _

"_Yes. Me," Merlin sniped, equally as icy. He didn't appreciate cruel sarcasm when he was the only person coming up with any solutions. "Got a better plan?"_

_Mordred fell silent. Arthur on the other hand, did not. _

"_Merlin, this is dangerous," he pointed out, as though Merlin didn't already know. His eyebrows were creased and his face was drawn, unable it seemed, to conceal his worry. _

"_I know that," Merlin replied, "but I'm the only one that can do it." He turned away from Arthur before the blond could say anything else, attempting to focus on the plan. "I can corner Tristan in the changing rooms, where everyone knows there is no surveillance, and get him to talk. And we can plant bugs in order to record what he says." _

"_Plant bugs?" Arthur scoffed, now looking both angry and upset. He did not take kindly to being dismissed. "Got many of them lying around, have you?"_

"_We can get someone on the outside to smuggle some in," Merlin said calmly, determinedly not looking in his cellmate's direction. The last thing he needed was to be drawn into a fight with one of his only allies, and dare he say it, his friend._

"_Who?"_

_Merlin paused. "Gwen!"_

"_What?" Lancelot squawked, startled. He straightened up and looked between Arthur and Merlin, shaking his head. "Now, hang on a minute -"_

"_I'm sorry," Merlin interrupted, before Lancelot could voice his protests. "But Gwen's the only one who'd be able to smuggle some in without getting caught. She's a member of staff so security isn't as tight."_

_But Lancelot looked horrified, obviously choosing to ignore the logic of the plan. "You can't expect me to ask her to -"_

"_If I can work with Morded," Arthur snapped loudly, speaking over him, "then you can ask Gwen to do you a small favour."_

"_A small favour?" Lancelot yelped, sounding panicked now. "She'd get fired!" _

"If_ she was caught," Arthur pointed out, crossing his arms, apparently incapable of summoning even the smallest bit of sympathy. _

_Lancelot looked around the room, from person to person, seemingly hopeful that somebody would come to his defence. But when nobody did, he let out a long sigh of defeat, and shrugged his shoulders helplessly. "Fine," he muttered dully. "Doesn't look like I have much of a choice." _

"_Great!" Merlin exclaimed. "So we have a plan. Gwen gets us some bugs to plant in the changing rooms, I corner Tristan there and get him to talk, and then Morgana uses the information to gather evidence." _

"_And where will the rest of us be during this master plan?" Mordred asked blandly, sounding subtly sarcastic. _

"_In the showers as backup," Arthur said, before Merlin could reply. He draw himself up to his full height and looked his cellmate directly in the eye, pointedly leaving no room for argument. "In case something goes wrong…."_

"Merlin?" Arthur cried, startling him out of his musings. "Anyone alive in there?"

"Right, sorry," Merlin said, shaking the fogginess out of his mind. He brought himself back to the present, focusing on the faces in front of him. "Just thinking about the plan."

"Great, good," Arthur nodded. "'Cause it's time to put the plan into practise. Lancelot set the bugs up early this morning, so the changing rooms are well wired. Everything's ready."

"Are _you_ ready?" Lancelot asked, biting his lip. He looked more nervous than Merlin did, dark circles around his eyes and hair in disarray about his face.

"Yes," Merlin replied firmly, inclining his head and ignoring the pointed stuttering of his heart.

They all stared at him, each wearing expressions of varying concern. Lancelot was the most visibly shaken, followed by a worryingly anxious Arthur, whose face was blank but body wired. Mordred was perhaps the only exception. He looked serious but utterly relaxed, obviously wanting the plan to work but not particularly caring about Merlin's well-being.

"Let's do this," Lancelot smiled, giving Merlin a clap on the shoulder. "Do the best you can, Merlin. But try and make sure there are no mistakes. By smuggling in the bugs, Gwen's put her job on the line here."

Merlin smiled in a rather strained manner, suddenly feeling a whole lot worse.

Arthur glared at his friend. "Way to put the pressure on, mate."

Lancelot shrugged apologetically, face drawn. "Sorry," he mumbled, moving away. "Good luck."

"Remember not to mention me or Arthur. Nimueh can't know we're involved. And if Tristan does give you brain damage," Mordred said in complete seriousness, "try to get some answers _before_ he wallops you." He then nodded his head and drifted towards the door, ignoring the daggers Arthur was shooting into his back. But Merlin was hardly surprised. He supposed they were the only words of encouragement he'd ever get from Mordred.

"You don't have to do this," Arthur said after a moment, causing Merlin to turn towards him.

"Yeah, I kind of do," he replied, smiling.

"Right." Arthur rolled his eyes and nodded his head, arms crossed as he looked down at his feet. "Just…don't fuck up and get yourself killed," he advised, only half-joking. His lips turned up into a brief smile as he glanced up to meet Merlin's gaze, eyes crinkling in the corners.

"I'll…bare that in mind," Merlin replied, sounding embarrassingly breathless. Arthur's bright blue eyes tended to have a rather humiliating effect on him.

"You do that," the blond replied, drawing closer. He hovered in front of Merlin's face for a few brief moments, brow furrowed, as though inwardly debating something. Then, without warning, he moved forwards, pressing his lips chastely to Merlin's mouth. "Good luck," he breathed, nodding his head.

Merlin was pretty sure he died then and there.

* * *

><p>Twenty minutes later, Merlin was hovering awkwardly in the changing rooms, still alive but on the verge of a nervous breakdown, waiting anxiously for all the other prisoners to file out. He had just returned from his shower and was dressing himself slowly, attempting to be unsuspicious, while watching Tristan out the corner of his eye.<p>

The cafeteria worker was pacing the room in annoyance, shuffling through towels and discarded clothes, swearing quietly under his breath.

In a moment of uncharacteristic genius, when Merlin had told Will the plan, the mouthy prisoner had suggested hiding Tristan's clothes during his shower, so that when he returned he'd be unable to dress. It insured Tristan would be stranded in the changing rooms until all the other prisoners had left, enabling Merlin to catch him well and truly alone.

And so far, the plan was working well. Ten minutes before, Will had left his shower, put Tristan's clothes on underneath his own, and waltzed back to the communal area unchallenged, leaving the cafeteria worker stranded in the showers with nothing to wear.

Not that Tristan knew it. He was still riffling through the changing rooms in a towel, searching for his missing stuff. Merlin might of even found it amusing, if the situation hadn't been so serious.

And now he was stuck in a empty room with a convicted sociopath growing gradually more irritated. If Arthur, Lancelot and Mordred hadn't in the showers watching out for him, Merlin didn't think he'd ever of been able to gather the nerve to proceed with the plan.

But they were there, and it was that comfort that allowed him to speak as soon as the last other person had exited the room, leaving him and Tristan frighteningly alone. "Lost something?" he asked, voice strained but clear.

Tristan gave him a long, calculating glance before continuing his search, face thunderous. "Nothing for you to concern yourself with," he said dismissively.

"Right." Merlin nodded and took a deep breath, putting his hands in his pockets and tapping his feet. "So…" he breathed, steeling himself, "spoken to Nimueh lately?"

Tristan dropped the pile of clothes he was holding and spun around, expression registering both shock and horror. Merlin contained the urge to flinch away and levelled the criminal with an innocent look, head high and back straight.

"What….what did you just say?" Tristan asked, tone positively deadly. He moved towards Merlin slowly, like a cat cornering a quivering mouse.

But Merlin did not move away. "I said, 'spoken to Nimueh lately?'" he repeated, sounding far cooler and calmer than he felt. Because the only coherent thought actually running through his mind was 'oh my god, oh my god!'

"How do you know about Nimueh?" Tristan muttered.

"I saw her at the visit. It was foolish for her to come here," Merlin replied, raising his eyebrows and trying to contain the shaking of his hands.

"Nobody knows what Nimueh looks like," the prisoner said. He breathed down on Merlin from a much greater height, both dark and deadly. But despite the imposing posture, if Merlin wasn't very much mistaken, the man looked slightly afraid.

"I do," Merlin said clearly, so the recording equipment Gwen and Lancelot had managed to obtain could pick up his words. "I've met her before." He looked Tristan directly in the eye, praying that the man would not call his bluff. "She might have mentioned me. Merlin Emrys."

"Emrys?" Tristan breathed, face clouding. He appeared to be trying to recall something, expression twisted in confusion.

So Merlin decided to give him a helping hand. "I was the financial advisor she framed for embezzlement," he explained, knowing he was going to have to twist the truth slightly. "We met when I went to confront her about the suspicious funds, so that's how I recognised her." Merlin hoped that Tristan wouldn't know that he had dealt with Afanc - Nimueh's second in command - rather than Nimueh herself during the confrontation, because it was vital nobody found out about Mordred and Arthur's current alliance.

"Oh…" Tristan smirked, nodding his head. "Emrys. Yes, I remember your case. I always wondered why your name sounded so familiar."

Merlin scowled. "Well, now you know." He took in a deep breath and tried to keep the conversation going, pleased that he'd got the man talking. "Confronting Nimueh probably wasn't the smartest thing to do."

"No," Tristan smiled, lip curling cruelly. "But you were just a assistant. You couldn't have been expected to know how organised gangs operate." His tone was sarcastic and triumphant, positively gleeful at Merlin's naivety and wrongful arrest.

"What?" Merlin asked, praying the recordings were picking everything up. "You mean like how Nimueh set me up for fraud?"

"It was almost too easy," Tristan laughed, seemingly revelling in the memory. "Pay a few witnesses. Set up alibis. Plant a few incriminating forms at your work. Done."

Merlin scowled, partly pleased that Tristan was confessing everything for the microphones to hear, but also angry that he'd been so spectacularly set up. He'd only been an innocent bystander, harmlessly doing his job, who just happened to get caught up in a dangerous web of deceit and lies.

"It's hardly rare for Nimueh to make someone else take the fall for her," Tristan continued, bearing down on Merlin menacingly. "All in a days work."

Fearing that the criminal had done with talking and was now going to take action, Merlin staggered backwards, trying to keep him distracted. "Running an illegal gang is not work," he pointed out, before realising that making Tristan angrier would probably not help the situation.

But the cafeteria worker merely laughed, following Merlin's retreat. "If you tell anyone about Nimueh -"

"I won't!" Merlin cried, sounding panicked now, praying Tristan would just take his word for it.

"I know you won't," Tristan replied. "I won't let you."

He advanced upon Merlin with intent in his eye, backing him into a corner, when suddenly a door swung open. But instead of Arthur and the cavalry coming in from the showers to rescue him, it was a prison guard, looking around the changing rooms in confusion.

"Shower time is over," the man explained, eying Tristan towering over Merlin suspiciously. "Is everything OK in here?"

"Yep," Merlin squeaked, "just coming."

Tristan scowled, eyes narrowed in annoyance. "I was looking for my clothes," he said, taking in a long deep breath. "They're missing."

The prison guard nodded his head and began talking about replacements, giving Merlin his chance to escape. He'd got all the information he was going to get out of Tristan and he knew Arthur, Lancelot and Mordred would handle the bugs, enabling him to leave immediately.

Heart pounding heavily, he dodged round the prison guard and exited the room, feeling high on his small victory and suddenly grateful for his life.

* * *

><p>"I can't believe it," Arthur muttered, as he and Merlin stumbled back into their cell. "It worked. Better than any of us expected."<p>

Merlin grinned, staggering towards Arthur's bed and collapsing on top of it. He really couldn't be bothered to climb the ladder to his own. It had been a very long day. "Well, what can I say?" he joked tiredly, feeling uncontrollably relieved. "I'm a criminal mastermind."

Arthur sat next to him and smiled, Merlin's good mood obviously catching. "Well, I wouldn't go that far…" he said slowly, bringing his cellmate straight back down to earth.

"Don't ruin this for me," Merlin grumbled, scrunching up his face.

Arthur laughed, low and deep, a sound which sent shivers down Merlin's spine. "Right, sorry," he said, not sounding sorry at all. In fact, he sounded almost as relieved as Merlin did, face lighting up in a way that was almost unrecognisable. It really was a very pretty sight.

"So…" Merlin coughed, attempting to initiate conversation before he did something embarrassing. Like tackle Arthur to the ground and give him a lap dance. "I guess all we have to do now is wait for Morgana to gather some evidence from the recordings. It's in her hands now."

"Yeah," the blond agreed, lying back. "Find the fake witnesses. Prove the forms were planted. Or rubbish Nimueh's alibis. Then we've got her." He put his hands behind his head and turned his face to watch his cellmate, smiling slightly. But it was a minute or two before he spoke again, voice uncharacteristically hesitant. "I'm…I'm actually glad you're OK."

Merlin let out a breath, trying to shake off the butterflies attempting to burst from his chest. He sat up and folded his fingers together, suddenly not tired anymore. "Look, Arthur," he muttered, gathering his courage, "I've got some things I need to say to you."

Arthur followed his lead and sat up, a frown contorting his features. "Go on," he prompted. He sounded resigned, and if Merlin wasn't imagining it, maybe a little disappointed.

"Well, over the last few days… I've still been angry and upset about the whole Owain thing, even if I pretended I wasn't," Merlin began, holding up a hand when Arthur started to speak. "And during all the commotion, I guess I forgot to say thank you."

The blond blinked, looking completely thrown. "Thank you for what?"

"For agreeing to work with Mordred," Merlin explained. "I know how hard that must have been for you. So…thanks."

Arthur laughed. "Well, I would say 'it was no problem', but that would be a lie." He shrugged his shoulders and leant back against the wall, considering Merlin with calculating eyes. "For a minute there, I thought you were going to say something about the kiss," he admitted.

Merlin looked down at his hands. "Um, nope. Definitely not talking about the kiss."

"So, there was no problem?" the blond asked, voice casual. He shuffled forwards so they were side my side, only inches away from each other.

"Um…" Merlin began, increasingly aware of Arthur's close proximity. His brain seemed to have short-circuited, abandoning him in his time of need. "Well, I…um…"

But before Merlin could form any sort of coherent argument, the blond lent forwards and closed the remaining distance between them, pressing their lips together in a soft kiss. Merlin let out a breathy sigh and froze, genuinely unable to move away, eyes fluttering closed.

Arthur took Merlin's reaction as an invitation, choosing to thread a hand through his cellmate's dark hair and kiss him again. It was deeper the second time, sloppy and wet, and before Merlin quite understood what was happening, he was responding with vigour, tilting his head to better the angle and thrust his tongue deeper into his cellmate's mouth.

It was deep, frantic and hungry, teeth clashing and tongues wrestling, filled with a passion Merlin had been desperately trying to suppress. And when Arthur moaned low and deep in his throat, Merlin suddenly remembered why.

He pulled back, breathing ragged and cheeks flushed, leaping off the edge of the bed. "Oh god," he muttered, burying his face in his hands. "We can't do this."

Arthur watched him from his place on the mattress, looking both disappointed and confused. "Why not?"

"Because…because I can't do this with you again," Merlin replied, attempting to pull himself together. He took in two long hacking breaths and steeled his shoulders, mentally preparing himself for a fight. "I _won't_ do this with you again."

The blond groaned in exasperation, running a hand over his face. "If this is about the Owain thing, I've said sorry," he argued, shrugging his shoulders helplessly. "Are you _ever_ going to forgive me?"

Merlin laughed shrilly. "The whole thing was partly my fault in the first place," he admitted. "I assumed things that I shouldn't have….I've already forgiven you, Arthur. I just haven't forgotten."

Arthur bit his lip and looked away, unable to find an appropriate response to Merlin's words. He shrugged his shoulders and let out a sigh, signalling his defeat.

Merlin bit back a sigh of his own and looked down at the floor, attempting to suppress his internal disappointment. A rather large part of him had hoped that Arthur would argue further, would attempt to fight for him, but deep down he knew it was something the blond would probably never do. Merlin didn't think Arthur was even capable of making himself so vulnerable, capable of submitting to someone, and the thought saddened him more than he cared to admit.

But before he could comment on Arthur's commitment phobia, their cell door banged open, revealing an incredibly flushed looking Lancelot.

"We have a problem!" he announced, oblivious to the atmosphere of the room.

Arthur jumped to his feet, looking alarmed. "What?" he asked.

"Morgana's been arrested!" Lancelot cried.

To be continued…

* * *

><p>AN I decided to shake the format of the chap up and add a flashback, so The Plan stuff wasn't too long last chapter, so what do you think? Very plotty chapter again, and great use of artistic license to make the plan work, but I had to cut some corners - this is a fic, obviously not a novel! ;)

Arthur/Merlin is developing. Veryyy slowly. More next chap, promise!

Please R&R!


	12. The Lesser of Two Evils

**GENRE: Modern AU  
>RATING: NC-17<br>WORDS: This chap is 4800  
>DISCLAIMER: I own nothing.<strong>

SUMMARY: Merlin Emrys is dead. No, really. He's just called the most powerful prisoner in jail a prat. A prat he happens to be cellmates with.

A/N Usual apology, I'm very sorry about the long wait for this! This fic will be finished, it's just a matter of when. Thank you to everyone who has stuck with the story, and left reviews, I know this must be really frustrating, but please bear with me. :)

Just to warn you now, this chapter gets soppy. Or soppy for this fic anyway.

* * *

><p><strong>Cellmate <strong>

**Chapter 12 - The Lesser of Two Evils**

"Does someone want to explain what's going on?" Arthur asked, as he and Merlin followed Lancelot into the communal area, taking the seat furthest from Mordred.

The druid was sat alone, without the protection of his usual guards, jaw jumping and face thunderous. He barely glanced up when Arthur, Lancelot and Merlin arrived, eyes locked on the table in front of him, as though trying to destroy it with sheer willpower alone.

"Morgana's been arrested," Lancelot repeated.

Mordred eye twitched, but he made no other movement, allowing Lancelot to continue.

"It seems Nimueh discovered that Morgana was making enquiries about her," he explained, shrugging his shoulders. "So…Nimueh pulled some strings and got her arrested."

Merlin groaned, bringing a hand up to his mouth and attempting to disguise his dismayed expression. "How?!"

"No idea," was the answer. "Nimueh thought Morgana was a threat, and so decided to get rid of her. But that's all we really know at the moment, nobody can get in contact with her." Lancelot then gave his arms a rather lifeless wave, frustrated. "And to be honest, she's lucky she wasn't killed instead."

"Lucky?!" Mordred echoed, head snapping up. His cheeks were uncharacteristically flushed and his eyes were blazing, causing Merlin to recoil slightly in his seat. "She's been_ arreste_d because of a favour I asked her for!"

"Does Nimueh know Morgana was working on Mordred's orders?" Arthur asked in a loud and pointed voice, turning towards his best friend and ignoring the druid completely.

"Well, she's got to suspect," Lancelot admitted, "even if she doesn't know for sure. But I don't think she knows about our involvement." He signalled to himself and Arthur, raising his shoulders in a rather sheepish shrug.

"So how are we going to get the evidence now?" Merlin asked, looking at each of them hopefully. Lancelot waved a bemused hand and looked away, expression defeated, while Arthur raised his eyebrows and shook his hand, looking irritated but not altogether surprised. Even Mordred appeared strangely distressed, still glaring at the table with a look of pure evil, not even dignifying Merlin's words with a response. "Because the recordings aren't enough to get Nimueh arrested."

After a moment, Arthur sighed exasperatedly, waving his hands. "Well, it's obvious, isn't it? Mordred's going to have to ask someone else in his gang," he said, in a tone that suggested no argument.

Mordred raised his eyes from the table leg, fixing Arthur with one of the most deadly stares Merlin had_ eve_r seen. "What, so they can get arrested as well?!" he exclaimed, expression incredulous.

"Well, the less druids there are the better," the blond grinned in a way that was decidedly smug, apparently unable to stop himself. "Win - win!"

Mordred surged forwards, only to be intercepted my Lancelot, who caught him round the waist and pushed him back down. "Arthur!" he hissed, glaring daggers at his friend. "Shut your trap. Not helping."

The blond shrugged and looked away, evidently immune to the power of Mordred's death glares.

"Er_…ca_n you ask another druid to gather evidence?" Lancelot asked Mordred sheepishly, after a rather painful pause. "Because we don't have many other options here."

"No." Mordred voice was firm and glare unwavering, leaving little room for argument. "The risks aside, Morgana was the only one I trusted with this."

"Then what the hell are we supposed to do?!" Merlin cried, trying and failing to suppress his panic; if the druids couldn't help, it meant they were well and truly on their own.

But Mordred didn't appear too worried. In fact, he was beginning to look frighteningly gleeful, expression twisting from anger to smugness in a matter of seconds. "I'm not the only one with gang connections," he simpered, in an innocent voice that sounded rather disconcerting, an idea obviously forming in his mind. "Am I, Arthur?"

Arthur's head snapped towards the druid, and although his face was stony, panic was flaring in his eyes. "You can't honestly be suggesting I go to him?" he asked, sounding more icy that Merlin had ever heard him. His whole body had tensed and his fists were clenched, a muscle jumping in his jaw. "I haven't been in contact for years."

"You're his son, whether you like it or not," Mordred said, lips curling at the evidence of Arthur's distress. Merlin quickly realised he was referring to Uther, notorious gang leader and Arthur's absent father. "If you ask him for help, he will give it to you."

"I don't_ want_ his help!" Arthur hissed, leaning forwards threateningly.

"_Yo_u may not want his help," Lancelot interrupted, before it could dissolve into another argument, "but_ w_e need it." He placed a hand on his friend's shoulder and squeezed comfortingly.

"No," the blond snapped, sounding strained. He shook his head and looked at each of his companions, searching for some support. But when his gaze found his cellmate, Merlin glanced away, trying to ignore the way Arthur's face crumpled out the corner of his eye.

"Arthur…" Lancelot began calmly, only to be cut off.

"No," the blond cried, climbing shakily to his feet. He shook off Lancelot's hand and backed away, staring at them incredulously. "No!"

Then, in a completely uncharacteristic move, Arthur turned on a heel and fled, practically flying to the other end of the communal area and up the stairs.

Merlin blinked bemusedly at the hasty retreat and looked towards Lancelot and Mordred, who both looked almost as surprised as he did.

Lancelot shook his head and sighed, upset. Mordred on the other hand, looked positively delighted, a drastic difference to his mood at the beginning of the conversation; Arthur's misery appeared to have cheered him up a treat.

* * *

><p>"Arthur?" Merlin called, announcing his presence as he opened their cell door. He walked in slowly, as though expecting an attack, allowing Arthur a moment to pull himself together before he arrived.<p>

But it appeared there was no need. Arthur was perched on the side of his bed, gazing at the opposite wall, in the way he always did when he was thinking.

Merlin shuffled closer and shut the door, already feeling awkward, but determined. "Are - are you ok?"

Arthur gave a distant nod and shrugged. "Have they sent you to convince me?" he asked, sounding remote and uninterested.

"No," Merlin said empathically, sitting down on the bed. He turned his head to look at his cellmate, unsure of what to say. He hated to see Arthur in conflict, hated to see him struggling. It was so uncharacteristic it was disconcerting to watch, and if Merlin was honest with himself, maybe a little bit scary. Arthur was supposed to be the strong one, unflappable and indestructible. Uther must have been a formidable force indeed, to reduce the blond to such a state.

"I won't do it," Arthur repeated firmly, startling Merlin from his thoughts, as though trying reaffirm the notion in his mind.

Merlin lowered his gaze and swung his legs against the edge of the bed, working to keep his voice cool and casual: "Why not?"

"Because he killed my mother!" Arthur cried, voice strong with feeling.

"Directly?" Merlin asked, undeterred, although he already knew the answer. Gwen had informed him of how Arthur's mother had died during his first couple of weeks at the prison, but he'd never heard the story from the blond directly. It was different hearing it from Arthur himself, almost an admission of the trust Merlin was subconsciously desperate to receive. "Did he take a gun a shoot her himself?"

Arthur inhaled sharply, and for one frightening moment, Merlin thought he had crossed an invisible line and was about to receive tears or a punch. But a moment later, the blond replied, sounding cold but strangely resigned. "No."

"Then he didn't kill her," Merlin stated firmly. He didn't know why he was defending a gang leader he'd never even met, but as someone who'd never had a father, it saddened him to see Arthur's and Uther's relationship in such tatters. Even if the relationship seemed to be built upon lies, deceit and criminal activity.

"As good as," the blond protested, more instinctively than anything else. He scrunched up his face and looked down at the floor, watching Merlin swing his legs backwards and forwards with a conflicted expression. He seemed to be struggling to say something more, a muscle jumping erratically in his jaw. "It…it was because of him, she was targeted_… We_ were targeted. But I got away, and s-she didn't."

Merlin was unable to stop himself leaning forwards eagerly, captured by Arthur's words. He'd been waiting for this explanation from Arthur for a long time, and now that it had come, Merlin couldn't quite believe he was hearing it.

"Because of all o_f h_is illegal dealings, the enemie_s _he made_, s_he was targeted," the blond continued in an almost business-like manner, still staring at Merlin's feet. "She died, all because he liked playing Gang Leader."

Merlin allowed Arthur to gather himself for a second, before pressing forwards, asking a question he'd always been desperate to know the answer to. "And what about you?" he wondered, heart thumping. "Were you ever part of the gang?"

Arthur laughed, but his voice was strangely shrill. "No," he replied.

Merlin let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding, relief swooping down to the pit of his stomach. He'd been right all along! He'd always known that Arthur wasn't a cold-hearted criminal everyone assumed him to be. He was dangerous, most certainly - strong, powerful and physically skilled - but he was no monster.

"I think everyone always thought I was part of my father's gang," Arthur admitted, oblivious to Merlin's internal triumph. "That's why everyone's so afraid of me here. But I never was. My mother sheltered me from it until I was 16, 17...and then she died and I ended up in here; there wasn't much time to follow in Uther's footsteps."

"Have you even spoken to him?"

Arthur sighed. "No. I mean, he tried to see me when I first came here, but…." He dribbled off, leaving the sentence hanging.

"Then he still cares about you," Merlin persisted, ready now to push his argument. Even if Arthur couldn't get Uther to help with Nimueh, even speaking to his father, just to clear the air, would help Arthur defeat the inner demons that had been plaguing him for years.

Arthur seemed to sense where Merlin's words were leading, however, face clouding over. "I already told you," he said, looking pained, "I can't go to him."

"That's what you said when I asked you to work with Mordred," Merlin pointed out, unwilling to give up despite Arthur's increasing annoyance. He'd known the man long enough to know that Arthur wouldn'_t really_ hurt or maim him, no matter how much he pushed. "And you managed to work with him!"

"That's different," the blond insisted, sounding stubborn. He shook his head and pursed his lips, struggling to explain himself. "Mordred's an enemy, he'_s suppos_ed to try and destroy me. I can deal with that. But…Uther's supposed to be my father, my mother's husband. He was supposed to protect us." Arthur shrugged and looked away. "And he didn't."

Merlin closed his eyes and let out a breath, not wanting to push further when the blond was in such obvious distress, but knowing he had to. "Arthur…" he tried, attempting to form some sort of convincing argument. "If you don't speak to Uther, Nimueh might destroy us all. She'll win."

Arthur shrugged but said nothing, frowning at the opposite wall with feigned concentration.

Merlin pressed further. "Deep down you must know that Mordred was telling the truth when he said he wasn't behind your mother's death. It was Nimueh." Merlin knew he was basing his whole argument purely on Mordred's supposed innocence and his own rather vague theories, but he had very little else to work with. He would just have to hope his intuition was correct. "We finally have a chance to get her arrested. You can't let your mother's killer get away with it."

Arthur looked pained now, fists clenched and face twisted.

Merlin bit his own lip as he watched Arthur's expression crumble, but didn't stop, knowing that the blond was close to defeat. "If you let Nimueh get away now, it'll all be for nothing. Yo_u ha_ve to go to him!"

Arthur let out a choked gasp and buried his face in his hands, muttering a very strained, but very final, "I know."

* * *

><p>"So how is he?" Lancelot asked, as soon as Merlin stumbled into the communal area a few minutes later, white as a sheet and expression drawn.<p>

"Honestly," Merlin muttered, collapsing into a seat, suddenly feeling very tired, "not good. I've never seen him like this before."

Lancelot smiled bitterly. "Uther tends to have that effect on people."

"I didn't know what to do," Merlin moaned, running a hand through his hair and down his face. "He was so upset - or as upset as Arthur can get, anyway - and I kept pushing him to help!"

"Someone needs to push him," Lancelot said softly, understanding and sympathetic, "or things with Uther would never get better."

Merlin sighed. "I know. I just…I didn't know how to comfort him."

Lancelot stared at him for a moment, expression soft but eyes searching. "You care about Arthur a lot, don't you?"

Merlin let out a strained laugh and looked away, avoiding Lancelot's eyes. "That obvious, huh?" he muttered, feeling his cheeks flame slightly in embarrassment. He hadn't realised he'd be so unsubtle, but then again, it was hardly a surprise: tact had never been his strong-suit.

"Sort of," Lancelot smiled, eyes warm. "But it's the way you look at him more than anything else."

"The way I look at him?!" Merlin squawked, panicked.

Lancelot grinned. "Yes," he confirmed, nodding his head. "All…dazed, admiring and love-sick. Not to mention lustful."

Merlin spluttered, attempting to form a coherent argument, but unable to think of anything but, "I do not!"

"Yes, you do," Lancelot insisted, amusement evident on his features. His voice was soft and playful, twinkling with suppressed laughter. "But as soon as he speaks, the love-sick expression vanishes and you look like you want to hurt him."

Merlin was suddenly unable to stop himself from chuckling aloud, feeling considerably more light-hearted than he had all week. "That's because he's irritating when he speaks. And often insulting," he felt the need to point out, only partly joking.

Lancelot paused a moment before replying, taking in a deep breath. "He does care about you too, you know?" he said, amusement dissolving into an expression of earnest.

Merlin's own smile slipped and his looked at the ground, unsure of what to say. His heart was stuttering in his chest, and he fought to suppress it, keeping his voice even as he replied: "Really?"

"Really," Lancelot said firmly. "More than he's cared about anyone in a long time. He may not say anything because it's not really in his nature, but I've seen the way he is around you. He lets you say what you want to him, he trusts you with private information and he defends you against people like Mordred. And I don't think you quite understand how rare that is for him."

Merlin looked up in surprise, brow furrowing. "Yeah…maybe…" he said uncertainly, feeling confused and dizzied by the new information. "But…Owain…."

"I know he's made some mistakes and I'm not condoning them, but I think he's just confused," Lancelot replied, weighing his words out slowly and carefully. "He likes you, trusts you, cares about you, and he doesn't really know what to make of it."

Merlin sighed and looked at the ground, purposely ignoring the butterflies that had taken flight in his stomach. "Look, I appreciate you telling me this, Lancelot," he said, sounding far calmer than he felt. "But it's something I need to hear from Arthur."

Lancelot nodded, but his expression was grim. "I understand," he muttered, "but I think you'll be waiting in vain. I doubt it's something Arthur will ever say." Merlin knew that Lancelot spoke the truth, but it didn't stop his heart dropping in disappointment, hands curling into shaking fists. "That's just not who he is. He's more a man of action."

Merlin allowed Lancelot words to sink in and said nothing, his mind a whirl of conflicting thoughts and emotions. He knew that Arthur did care about him to some extent, he had witnessed it on a few occasions, but it didn't stop him from wanting to hear it confirmed. To hear that there wouldn't be another Owain, and that he was Merlin's alone…all the romantic crap that he suspected Arthur had never even thought about, let alone confess.

Because sometimes kisses just weren't enough.

* * *

><p>Dragging his feet back to the cell one very confusing hour later, Merlin attempted to pull himself together, for Arthur's sake more than anything. If the blond agreed to see Uther, he would need his help and support, something that Merlin was more than willing to provide. He felt that Arthur deserved that much at least.<p>

"You OK?" Merlin asked upon his return, slipping through the door. He stood in the middle of the room and watched Arthur stare at the ceiling some more, feeling strangely anxious and conflicted. He blamed Lancelot for leaving him even more confused than he was before.

"I suppose," came the bland reply, devoid of any emotion. "I arranged the visit with Uther. It's tomorrow."

Merlin's eyes widened and he was unable to hold back a smile, relieved and thankful that the plan was back on track. "Wow, so soon?" he asked, trying to keep the excitement in his voice to a minimum. But going from the glare Arthur shot him, he hadn't succeeded. "That's…that's good."

"I suppose," the blond said again, in the same expressionless tone.

"Did you speak to him yourself? To Uther?" Merlin asked, hating to see Arthur so indifferent. It made him so difficult to read, more than usual.

"Yes," the blond replied curtly, but he sounded more strained now, the cool indifference in his voice melting away.

"What did you say?"

"Nothing." Arthur paused before continuing, jaw snapping together loudly. "I just asked him to come and see me. He agreed." Apparently unable to hold back his frustration, Arthur then let out a straggled cry and threw his hands over his face, his impassive expression abandoning him. "God! Even hearing his voice made me want to punch something."

Merlin frowned. "That doesn't bode well," he muttered, suddenly wondering how Arthur would be able to handle the visit. They needed Uther's help, and Arthur punching him in the face was hardly a good way to get it. "Are you sure you're going to be OK for tomorrow?"

"No," Arthur replied instantly.

Well, at least he was honest.

"Great," Merlin muttered, for a lack of anything better to say.

Arthur turned to look at him, his golden head tipped sideways on his pillow. He watched Merlin with the same calculating gaze he'd used when they first met, both wary and confused, as though trying to search for something. "I thought that maybe…" he took in a deep breath, looking determined "…that maybe, you'd come with me."

Merlin blinked, recoiling slightly. "To the visit?!" he yelped, ashamed to admit that his voice had risen by several octaves.

"Yes," the blond nodded. "To stop me from doing something stupid."

"Um…I don't know, Arthur," Merlin struggled, panic curling in his stomach. Meeting a gang leader was scary enough, but from what everyone had told him of Uther, the man was particularly terrifying. And Merlin really didn't fancy getting on the wrong side of him. "Me and gang leaders, not a good mix."

Arthur looked down before his gaze flittered back up, looking hesitant and strangely uncertain. The look was so reminiscent of the time Arthur had kissed him, determined and unsure, Merlin felt his breath catch.

"Please, Merlin," the blond said quietly, voice strong but pleading. "I…can't go alone."

"Right," Merlin choked, unable to look away from the brightness of Arthur's unwavering gaze. He found himself bobbing his head, mesmerised by his cellmate's vivid blue eyes. "Of course. Of course I'll go with you."

Arthur smiled, so relieved and genuine, Merlin resisted the urge to pounce on him. He just couldn't help it; just knowing that he'd made Arthur happy did awfully strange things to him, irrational and completely beyond his control.

"Thanks," the blond replied, lowering his gaze and looking almost shy. Almost, but not quite. "That means a lot. More than you know."

Merlin smiled in reply, unable to stop himself. "I'm glad that you trust me with this," he admitted, biting his lip and fixing Arthur with what he feared was one of his love-sick expressions.

But the blond looked back up and him and nodded, his own expression unusually soft. "I do, Merlin. I do."

* * *

><p>"So…" Merlin said the next day, looking about the room and pretending to be casual. They were sat in the visiting area, side by side, awaiting Uther's arrival, both nervous and on edge. After watching Arthur stare into the distance for several minutes, Merlin was becoming desperate to break the tension and eagerly attempted conversation, voice fake and thick with falsetto. "What's your father like?"<p>

Arthur blinked at the wall, face wooden and fists curled. "You know, the usual. Controlling. Manipulative…Evil."

Merlin swivelled in his seat to look at his cellmate, unable to hide his alarm. "Evil?" he repeated, in a high voice. "You don't mean that?" He paused, suddenly doubtful. "Do you?"

Arthur took a minute before replying, leaving Merlin to stew in his mounting panic. "No," he finally admitted, sounding reluctant, "I guess not. But he's certainly controlling and manipulative."

"Oh," Merlin squawked sarcastically, "just controlling and manipulative! Well, that's alright then. I don't know what I was even worried about!"

The blond glanced at him for the first time since they had sat down, obviously hearing the alarm in Merlin's voice. "Look," he said calmly, "I'll be the first to admit my father is _a…formidabl_e man, but you don't need to worry. I'm going to be the one speaking to him."

Merlin sighed and nodded, suddenly feeling foolish and a little bit guilty. He'd agreed to go with Arthur on the pretence of offering moral support, and he was panicking far more than the blond was. It was embarrassing.

But before he could say anything in his own defence, the room's doors clanked open with a painful screech, alerting everyone to the arrival of the visitors. They began to file in slowly, eyes skimming over the prisoners until they located their loved ones, some looking pleased and others distressed.

Arthur however, immediately straightened in his seat, looking inches away from bolting, eyes wide and breathing ragged. He stared up at the visitors with a frightened gaze, lowered his eyes and glanced back up, unsure of where to look. Merlin could feel Arthur's hands clawing at his own thighs beside him, knuckles white with the pressure and arm muscles clenched anxiously.

Suddenly forgetting his own worries and remembering why he came, Merlin reached out and grasped at Arthur's clawed hands, forcefully lacing their fingers together into a clutching embrace. He felt a blond take a breath and give his hand a thankful squeeze, although his eyes never wavered from the crowd of visitors, nervously awaiting his father.

It was only when a man emerged through the throng of people completely unflustered, with a strange dignity and grace, straight-backed and proud, did Merlin realise that Uther had arrived.

It was easy to recognise who he was. He held himself with pride and purpose, his strides long and powerful, eyes shrewd and calculating, causing Merlin to withdraw slightly on instinct. He even wore the same unreadable expression Arthur often adorned, although his face was not bright and beautiful like his son's, but lined and aged, portraying both the power and wisdom of his position and profession.

If Merlin wasn't afraid before, he definitely was now.

"Father," Arthur choked, by way of introduction. His hand was sweating profusely in Merlin's palm, nails digging into his skin and clinging to their entwined fingers like a lifeline.

Uther looked down at his son as he stopped on the other side of the table, eyes skittering from the top of Arthur's head all the way down to his toes. "Arthur," he replied, nodding his head and taking his seat, paying Merlin absolutely no heed. "How are you?"

The blond tensed even further, his expression almost a grimace. "I'm fine," he said curtly, meeting his father's gaze. "But I didn't call you here to make small talk."

Uther didn't appear particularly surprised to hear this, his lips curving into a somewhat bitter smile. "No, I'd imagine not." He placed his hands on the table in front of him and laced them together, leaning back on his seat and seeming completely at ease. "Then tell me Arthur, why did you call me here? After three years of silence?"

Arthur hesitated and glanced back a Merlin, who gave him a small nod of encouragement. "For your help," he admitted.

Uther's all-seeing stare turned straight to Merlin, apparently noticing the small gesture of support. "And he is?" the gang leader asked, addressing his son despite looking directly at Merlin, his tone suddenly sharp and commanding.

Merlin blinked back at him, brow furrowing in annoyance, although he was resisting the urge to cower.

"He's my…friend," Arthur replied, searching for an appropriate word. He sounded snappy and defensive, his hand giving Merlin's another reassuring squeeze. "He's the one that convinced me to even try to talk to you. He's here as moral support."

Merlin couldn't help but smile triumphantly, his heart swelling with pride. Or at least until Uther looked back at him, expression deadly and faintly disgusted.

"I see," the gang leader said, choosing not to dignify Merlin's presence with anything more substantial. "And the help you require?"

"I…o_r _we, have a problem," Arthur explained, drawing himself up and getting down to business, gesturing to himself and Merlin. "Someone's plotting against me. People that I care about have been targeted, and it's getting worse. Lancelot ended up in hospital with a severe blow to the head."

"Lancelot Du Lac?"

"Yes."

"Do you know who the person behind it is?" Uther asked, sounding neither worried or concerned, but brisk and business-like, as though he was merely discussing the weather.

"Yes," Arthur replied, his voice adopting the same tone as his father's. "We believe Nimueh is behind it, instigating from the outside."

"Nimueh…" Uther repeated, for the first time since his arrival, showing a true flicker of emotion. His eyebrows had furrowed and his lips were pursed, forehead crinkling in a way that almost resembled worry. "It can't be," he said, in a quiet tone, more to himself than Arthur. "She wouldn't dare."

"It is her," Arthur stated firmly, making no move to elaborate on how he knew so, for which Merlin was grateful. He doubted Uther would take his word for it, especially regarding Tristans's overheard phone conversation.

"Nimueh and I negotiated a truce years ago," Uther informed them, sounding defiant, as though challenging Arthur to contradict him. "Attacking my own son might as well be an act of war."

The blond glowered, his teeth grinding together in an attempt to contain himself, chest rising rapidly. Merlin could even feel the muscles in Arthur's hands clenching, twitching, as though begging to wrap themselves around Uther's neck. "So, you take Nimueh's word over mine?" he snapped, meeting Uther's stare head on. "The word of your own son."

The gang leader's eyes narrowed. "That is not what I said."

"But that is what it sounds like," Arthur replied instantly, his gaze never wavering from his father's face. They stared at each other for several long pained moments, neither willing to look away, engaged in a silent battle of wills which Merlin couldn't begin to understand.

But finally, after an extensive strained silence, Uther sighed and looked away, his face softening ever so slightly. "I believe you," he said, as though he was admitting defeat.

"Then help us," Arthur cried, his grip on Merlin's hand loosening significantly, although he did not let go. "We already have recordings to incriminate Nimueh. But we need more evidence."

"And you want me to find it," Uther guessed, eyebrows raised.

"Yes."

"If Nimueh discovers I've begun to work against her, our truce will be void. It could mean war between the gangs," Uther murmured, watching Arthur very closely over the tips of his fingers. He waited for a few moments, turning things over in his mind. "You know, I wouldn't do this for anyone but you."

The blond inhaled loudly, face contorting before he managed to pull himself together, looking both flustered and conflicted. "Well, thanks…I guess." He paused, shaking his head. "But this doesn't change anything between us."

"No," Uther agreed, giving his head a quick incline. "But it's a start."

To be continued…

* * *

><p>AN This was more of a filler chapter, focused on the development of the Arthur/Merlin relationship, I hope it's coming on realistically! It's hard to find the right balance of not making it too soppy ;) The next chapter will be more exciting!

Please review! And I'll get to editing the next chapter :)


	13. If There's Any Justice

DISCLAIMER: I own nothing, as per usual.

WARNINGS: Violence in this chap, and language. Sexual situations later

* * *

><p><strong><span>Cellmate - Chapter 13<span>**

**If There's Any Justice**

"Well, that's a relief," Merlin sighed, staggering into their cell and collapsing down onto Arthur's bed. It was easier; his bed was right at the top! "At least Uther agreed to help."

"Yeah, I guess," the blond replied, not looking altogether enthusiastic. He appeared contemplative more than anything, strangely conflicted, and had barely said two words since they left the visiting area.

"He's scary though," Merlin continued, realising that Arthur was not going to say anything further. The last thing he wanted was for the blond to descend into one of his marathon brooding sessions, so he attempted to keep him distracted, even if it meant more endless monologuing. "Like you, just less good looking."

Arthur's head snapped up, and Merlin knew he'd said the wrong thing when Arthur snapped: "I'm nothing like him!"

Merlin rolled his eyes, but was secretly glad he'd got a reaction. "I just mean very intimidating," he said, in a placating tone, giving the blond what he hoped was a reassuring smile.

But Arthur looked anything but reassured. If anything, Merlin's actions seemed to confuse him further. He crossed his arms in what almost looked like a defensive gesture, and cocked his head. "I don't understand. What is it that you want, Merlin?" he said at last, looking visibly strained at asking such a question. "Why are you doing this?"

"Doing what?" Merlin replied, sitting up and staring at his cellmate in complete bafflement. This was hardly the post-success celebration he'd been expecting.

Arthur threw up his arms, uncharacteristically flustered. "This! Helping me… with Uther and Mordred and everything." He took a deep breath and paused, looking away. When he spoke again his voice was soft but pained, as though he could barely believe what he was saying. "It's not that I don't appreciate it, but I'm wondering why. You came with me to see Uther today even though it clearly made you uncomfortable. Why?!"

Merlin floundered for several moments, mouth opening and closing in surprise. He would have thought the answer was pretty obvious, even to someone as oblivious as Arthur, but he sure as hell wasn't going to admit the reason out loud.

"It's just, you've made it clear you don't want to be with me, so why do you care so much?" Arthur continued, evidently realising that Merlin wasn't going to do anything but gape gormlessly.

Avoiding the question, Merlin gathered his wits and looked the blond straight in the eye, drawing himself up for the conversation he'd been waiting for. "Arthur, I never said that I didn't want to be with you," he stated calmly, watching his cellmate recoil slightly in surprise.

"Then, what - ?" The blond shook his head, suddenly looking suspicious. He paused for several long moments and breathed in deeply, watching his friend's every move with wary eyes. "You pushed me away last time – you said that you couldn't be with me again."

"Not because I didn't want to be with you," Merlin explained, surprised that the blond didn't already know. He gathered his courage and continued, unable to meet Arthur's eyes, gazing steadfastly at the opposite wall. "That was the problem. I_ really _wanted to be with you. But not like the last time. Properly."

Catching onto Merlin's meaning, the blond considered him, eyebrows raised. "Exclusively?" he concluded, looking uncertain. He shifted uneasily from foot to foot as he waited for his cellmate's reply, expression visibly strained.

"Yes." Merlin felt nervous now, more exposed than he'd felt in Arthur's presence for a long time, almost all his cards led out before him.

But the blond blinked, giving his arms an exaggerated wave. He was looking at Merlin with a disbelieving expression, eyes uncharacteristically wide. "Why didn't you say something?!" he cried.

"What would be the point?!" Merlin shot back, standing up and drawing himself up to Arthur's height. He knew that the time to be honest had come, and he had no intention of holding back, realising that there was no longer any point in lying or pretending. His feelings were already almost completely revealed, and he was surprisingly happy for it, almost relieved to finally be getting some closure. "Would you have been willing to do that?! Be exclusive?!"

The question hit Arthur hard, causing him to falter for several seconds, struggling to find an answer. He squared his jaw stubbornly and licked his lips, eyes flickering over Merlin's face searchingly. "Maybe," he replied at last, as though challenging his cellmate to contradict him.

But Merlin did nothing, heart thumping, as he ran his gaze over Arthur's features. "Maybe…?" he repeated faintly, completely unsure of what to make of the reply. It was just like Arthur to give such a vague and unhelpful answer. "Maybe." He ran a hand over his face and sighed, before looking back up to meet his cellmate's unwavering stare. "Is that a yes, Arthur? Because if it's not, why are we wasting our time? You have to be sure."

The blond seemed to bristle as Merlin's words, steeling himself determinedly, looking decidedly less uncertain. "It's a yes. I can be exclusive. I'm sure."

Merlin raised an eyebrow, unwilling to let himself believe the fanciful words, confused as a result of months worth of mind games and uncertainty. "Really?" he scoffed, voice rising in pitch. "Because you didn't sound sure a second ago. And what happens when the next newbie comes along and wants a bit of the action. Could you say no?"

Arthur gritted his teeth, looking angry at the assumption regarding his lack of self-control. "Yes," he snapped, although it sounded more instinctive than honest.

"Look, Arthur," Merlin sighed, taking in a long calming breath, "I just want you to think about this. I want you to be certain. I never want to walk in on you someday, having sex with someone else. Because honestly, I don't think I'd be able to take it."

The blond moved forwards slightly, placing his hand on Merlin's arm, his expression melting into something much softer, something almost caring. "Merlin…."

"Please just think about it," Merlin interrupted, attempting to stop his voice from cracking. "Do you really want to be with me more than anyone else? And are you willing to be faithful to me, no matter who propositions you? And do you trust me enough to be an equal in a relationship?"

Arthur opened his mouth to reply, but Merlin continued before he could speak, needing to get the words out while he still could.

"Think about it," he reiterated, as calmly as he was capable. "Then come to me with your answer. Because I don't want you making a rash decision now and changing your mind later. You have to be sure you want this as much as I do."

"And if I do?" Arthur asked, watching Merlin closely, his expression almost frighteningly intense.

"Then we get together," Merlin supplied, his stomach doing somersaults at the thought.

The blond raised an eyebrow, mulling it over in his mind. "Like boyfriends?" he said sceptically, his face twisting in distaste.

Merlin couldn't help but laugh at the expression, mood lightening ever so slightly. "Yes."

Arthur nodded, letting out a small, brief smile. "I've never had a proper boyfriend before," he admitted, sounding thoughtful.

Merlin's heart stopped. "Well, there's a first time for everything," he muttered.

* * *

><p>"Oh my god, Arthur," Lancelot muttered, as soon as Merlin and Arthur walked down for breakfast the next morning, sounding a little bit dazed. He was shaking his head ruefully, eyes shining and lips curling into a rather bemused smile. "Your father is a scary man."<p>

"What do you mean?" the blond asked, blinking back at him. His posture immediately straightened, as it always did at the mention of his father, and he folded his arms, as though he was expecting to hear something terrible.

But Lancelot merely let out a breathy laugh, one full of both happiness and relief. "Nimueh was arrested this morning," he announced, beaming.

"What?!" Merlin squawked, before Arthur could respond. His heart rocketed into his throat, almost choking him, stealing his breath and rendering him speechless. "What?!"

"She was arrested this morning," Lancelot reiterated, allowing the news to sink in before saying anything further.

"Already?!" Arthur cried, sounding almost as shell-shocked as Merlin felt. "What?! How?!"

"Uther," Lancelot muttered, as though that explained everything. "It all kicked off last night, apparently. Uther was none too happy about Nimueh targeting her son."

"So he did what Uther does best," Mordred continued, appearing from behind Lancelot and fixing Arthur with an unwavering stare. Even he looked cooler and calmer than Merlin had seen him in a while, face shining ethereally with something close to glee. "He went all tyrant and screwed her over."

Deliberately ignoring the malice behind Mordred's words, Arthur turned to speak to him, weighing his words out slowly. "What do you mean?"

"He handed over our recordings - as well as Nimueh's taped confession - to the police this morning," Mordred explained, lip curling. "Imagine the cops surprise when Uther Pendragon strolls into the station, flanked by two minions and clutching a suitcase full of evidence incriminating a fellow gang leader. Their faces much have been a picture."

"How do you know this?" Merlin couldn't stop himself from asking, suddenly convinced that Mordred had made the whole thing up. There was just no way it had actually happened; it was far too good to be true.

Mordred fixed Merlin with a disgusted look and didn't bother dignifying his question with a response, turning his gaze straight back to Arthur.

"His gang connections," Lancelot supplied, evidently realising Mordred was not going to answer. Merlin supposed it should have been obvious, but his mind was still trying to process the implications of Nimueh's arrest, incapable of registering anything but supreme relief. "They contacted him this morning with the news."

"They're delighted," Mordred said. He smiled, eyes slanting, and Merlin instantly remembered why he had always feared the druid, because the expression was positively evil. "One less enemy to worry about. Nimueh's gang is all but destroyed. Her followers are angry, of course, but they're lost without their leader. Uther works fast, I must admit. He must have already had lots of stuff on her from before the truce - it's the only way he could have gathered evidence fast enough."

Lancelot shrugged a shoulder, inclining his head. "That's probably why they created the truce in the first place," he mused, looking over at Arthur for some sort of confirmation.

But the blond merely shrugged, looking none too surprised by the new developments. He seemed to be mulling the information over in his mind, unsure of whether to be happy, shocked or grateful to his father.

It was only after a long pause that he spoke again, face twisting distastefully, as though something unpleasant had just occurred to him. "So Uther used the information we obtained then?" he asked, glancing from Mordred to Lancelot with poorly disguised interest, steadfastly avoiding Merlin's eyes. "About Merlin's case?"

"Yes," Mordred answered simply, giving his head a slow nod. "It's going up for appeal."

Merlin blinked, inhaling a lungful of air. "What?!" he choked, looking around at the three of them with his mouth hanging open. "What does that mean?"

"It means that you'll be free, Merlin," Lancelot replied, giving the dark-haired man a warm and genuinely happy smile. "As soon as everything's sorted. Uther completely exposed Nimueh and her plans, which by extension proves your innocence."

"Free?" Merlin repeated, the word running on loop through his mind. He gazed back at Lancelot blankly, feeling as though he'd just been hit in the face by something incredibly heavy. "Free?"

Lancelot nodded, looking pleased for him. "Yes, free."

Mordred on the other hand, let out a rather distasteful sigh, fixing Arthur with an all too familiar glare. "Well, it's alright for some," he hissed, crossing his arms. "Thanks to Uther, I'm going to be in here as long as Nimueh."

The blond scowled. "Don't give me that," he snapped, looking decidedly unsympathetic. "My father got you arrested for crimes you did commit, remember? You were never innocent like Merlin."

"You were never innocent either, Arthur," Mordred pointed out, raising his chin challengingly. His fists curled and he balanced himself on the balls of his feet, looking slight and nimble under Arthur's deadly stare. "Although you committed your…_crime_ in self defence, you're still going to be in here as long as me."

The blond said nothing, a muscle jumping in his jaw.

So Mordred continued, obviously encouraged by Arthur's deliberate lack of response: "And Merlin's not. Merlin's going free."

A heavy silence descended on the group, with both Arthur and Mordred staring at each other unblinkingly, the blond looking stony and the druid looking victorious. Both Merlin and Lancelot gazed between them, holding a collective breath, until Arthur spoke, sounding as though he was using all his remaining self-restraint not to punch Mordred in the face.

"You know, now that Nimueh's gone, we're not really allies anymore," he said after a moments pause, talking a threatening step closer to the druid, muscles coiled and shoulders steeled. "Which means I'm well within my rights to _kick your ass_!"

"Arthur!" Lancelot cried immediately, looking irritated. "Don't rise to the bait!"

The blond rolled his eyes, but did as his friend asked, retreating back slightly, reluctant. He crossed his arms and glared at the druid from beneath his fringe, although he said nothing further, moodily conceding to Lancelot's words.

"Well as fun as this has been," Mordred muttered, when nobody seemed inclined to say anything, "I'll be going now." He gave the blond another sideways glare, ignoring both Merlin and Lancelot completely, and turned to leave, whipping around on a graceful heel.

But before he'd moved more than a metre, Merlin cried out, another horrific thought just occurring to him. "Wait!" he called, causing Mordred to freeze. "What about our other problem?"

"What other problem?" Lancelot asked instantly, sounding alarmed.

Both he and Arthur blinked at Merlin in confusion, before simultaneously turning to Mordred, eyes narrowed suspiciously.

"What, me?!" the druid scoffed, scowling disgustedly.

"No, not you," Merlin replied, rolling his eyes. Mordred was certainly still a threat - even if they had been temporary allies - but he was not the person who Merlin had been referring to. "I mean Tristan."

Lancelot, Arthur and Mordred all stared at him, faces blank with incomprehension. None of them had evidently given Nimueh's minion much thought.

"Oh, yeah," said Lancelot, after a lengthy pause, looking towards Mordred hopefully.

But the druid merely scowled and shrugged, looking thoroughly uninterested. "What are you looking at me for? I don't know what happened to Tristan."

Merlin sighed, stomach sinking with dread. "So he's probably still after us then?" he concluded, praying to hear some evidence on the contrary. But when nobody spoke to contradict him, he groaned, burying a hand in his hair. "He'll be after us now more than ever, considering we've had his girlfriend arrested."

"Well, it's not as though the police could arrest him for his involvement anyway," Lancelot pointed out, sounding resigned. "He's already in prison."

"Yes," Merlin replied, voice cracking slightly, unable to contain his sudden hysteria. It was hardly fair that when they sorted one problem, another instantly arose. "This prison! Where he could attack at any moment!"

Arthur sighed, looking supremely unconcerned. "Relax, Merlin," he said softly, shrugging his shoulders, "He's not going to attack us here - oh! Hello Tristan!"

For one very brief moment, Merlin assumed Arthur was making some sort of practical joke. But as the blond gazed over Merlin's shoulder with something akin to wariness in his eyes, drawing himself up to his full height, Merlin gasped and spun round, coming face to face with the glowering cafeteria worker, who was grinding his teeth and breathing heavily, muscles flexing in his arms.

"Well, that was good timing," Merlin heard Mordred mutter in the background, sounding nothing but faintly amused, typically unconcerned by Tristan's sudden appearance.

But both Arthur and Lancelot had stiffened, drawing slowly forward and placing themselves between Merlin and the criminal, postures threatening and expressions stony.

"What is it that you want, Tristan?" Arthur asked calmly, eyes flickering around the edges of the cafeteria, as though hoping for some support.

The rest of the prisoners (as well as the guards), however, appeared completely oblivious to the unfolding scene, tucking into their breakfasts with their usual gusto, believing nothing was amiss. Merlin could even identify Will, sat a number of tables away, happily munching on his Cheerios.

"What do you _think_, Pendragon?" Tristan hissed, snapping Merlin from his reverie, face contorting, and fist lashing out from his side. Clutched in his hand, with a faint sense of horror, Merlin vaguely recognised the outline of a blunt metal weapon, just before it struck.

Taken completely by surprise, Lancelot didn't have time to do anything but blink bemusedly as he was walloped upside the head, the strike echoing with a painful crack. His eyes rolled backwards and his body crumpled, dropping motionlessly to the ground with a resounding thump.

Merlin let out a small faint squeak, dimly registering both Arthur's and Mordred's expressions of complete disbelief, before Tristan moved again, launching himself straight towards the blond and tackling him to the ground.

The cafeteria server's jump caught Merlin as well, an elbow smacking him in the ribcage, sending him tumbling onto the cold tiled floor, rolling a few times with the momentum. He hazily registered hearing Arthur's own 'oomph' of surprise as he attempted to scramble back onto his hands and knees, feeling winded, confused and dizzied by the fall.

He could hear shouts of alarm now ringing through the area, and the bustling of the crowds descending upon the fight, eager to see the commotion, but could see nothing but the blurred tiles of the ground, dancing vividly with various multi-coloured spots.

Blinking repeatedly, he dragged himself into a sitting position and looked around frantically, immediately spotting where Tristan and Arthur had landed just a few feet away, still locked in a tangle of limbs. The blond was led backwards, pinned to the floor, looking pale and unfocused, a small trail of blood trickling from his hair. He appeared dazed and confused, clutching at Tristan's shirt with shaking hands.

With a sharp pang of horror, Merlin realised that Arthur must have been concussed with the fall, and was too stunned to really fight back, head lolling and bleeding profusely.

So letting out a heroic battle cry, Merlin did the only thing he could and lurched forwards, ready to wrap his arms around Tristan's neck and squeeze for all that he was worth, determined to come to Arthur's aid.

But before he'd moved more than a metre, a familiar hand tugged at his waist and pulled him backwards, away from the fight.

"Don't be stupid, Merlin," Will said in his ear, through a mouth full of cereal. "Let the guards handle it."

But the guards were not given the chance. Just as they began to wrestle through the prisoners, towards the place Arthur and Tristan were struggling on the ground, Mordred turned to his followers, who all seemed to have appeared magically at his side. He gave his head a small jerk and they scattered, placing themselves as obstacles in the two guards paths, deliberately halting their intervention.

"Mordred!" Merlin cried, aghast, panic flaring in his chest.

But the druid blinked innocently, giving his shoulders a careless shrug. "What?! As Arthur said: 'We're not allies anymore,'" he repeated, shaping his fingers into sarcastic quotation marks. "And it's much more fun this way."

And unfortunately, most of the prisoners seemed to agree. They created a circle around the fight, all pushing and shoving to get a better view, faces eager and hungry for bloodshed, with none of them making any move to interfere.

Merlin suddenly found himself feeling uncontrollably nauseous and swayed dangerously as he watched the scene unfold, completely terrified, but utterly incapable of looking away.

Arthur appeared to have gotten over his shock now, and was starting to fight back, arching his back off the ground and twisting his wrists from Tristan's bruising grasp, struggling for his freedom. But he was already at a disadvantage, with the cafeteria worker's heavy weight on top of him, and had no chance of dislodging him without extra help.

"Arthur's hurt. I've got to do something!" Merlin cried, thrashing against Will's grip but unable to escape.

"What are _you_ going to do?!" Will gasped, tightening his hold. "You're just going to get yourself hurt!"

Merlin knew that Will was most definitely right, but couldn't stop himself struggling, eyes widening in horror as Tristan wrapped a hand around Arthur's neck. The blond flailed, his legs kicking uselessly, but was thankfully able to extract a hand from Tristan's distracted hold. He launched his palm upwards with all his might, straight for the cafeteria worker's nose, and heard it crack loudly upon impact.

Tristan reeled backwards, clutching his face, blood streaming from his nostrils and staining Arthur's chest a scarlet red, momentarily blinding him. But the pain had provided him with a necessary distraction and the blond instantly seized it, using Tristan's surprise to knock him off balance and onto the floor.

He rolled away from the cafeteria worker's flailing limbs and clambered upright, looking sick and woozy under the bright cafeteria lights, but still alert, fists bawled threateningly.

After a moments pause, despite his evident confusion, his eyes immediately focused on an object led on the outskirts of the fighting area, just in front of the ring of spectators. It was long, rounded and made of metal, something that Merlin couldn't name, but immediately identified as the weapon Tristan used to attack Lancelot.

Unfortunately the cafeteria worker seemed to spot it just as Arthur did, eyes widening in realisation.

Both he and Arthur flung themselves towards it, causing the other prisoners to reel back in surprise, faces creased in alarm. They both landed on the floor with a thumb, bodies tangled as attempted to scramble over each other, both desperate to reach it first. Arthur ended up only a few inches away, arm outstretched, when Tristan flung out his foot, kicking him straight in the stomach and knocking the wind right out of him.

The blond collapsed with a loud groan, momentarily paralysed, unable to do anything to prevent the cafeteria worker from launching over him and grapping the metal rod, holding it up triumphantly in his fist.

The guards, upon seeing the weapon, attempted to wrestle through the remaining druids, looking alarmed now, walky-talkies beeping loudly in their pockets. But they were too far away, still lost in the crowd, and Merlin felt his heart constrict painfully as their helplessness.

Tristan had whipped back round to face Arthur, weapon aloft, just about to strike, when Merlin let out a gasp. Doing the only thing he could think of, he ripped himself out of Will's grasp and launched himself straight onto the cafeteria worker's back, clinging to him with all his might.

He caught the criminal around the neck and caused him to stagger in surprise and swear obscenities at the ceiling, great bulk stumbling awkwardly. He swung around, attempting to shake Merlin off with great jerking movements, but the dark-haired man merely clung on tighter, lodging his arms around the man's neck and attempting to throttle him.

But unfortunately, despite being taken by surprise, Tristan was both big and strong, more than a match for Merlin's long, gangly limbs. He finally caught Merlin's hands in his grip and twisted, breaking their hold around his torso and squeezing painfully, causing Merlin to yelp and let go, immediately sliding straight off the slope of Tristan's back. He slumped to the floor and clutched his wrists in agony, just as the cafeteria worker whipped around and bore down on him, fists clenched and expression thunderous.

"You're going to pay for what you did to Nimueh, you little shit," he hissed, raising his arm to belt Merlin straight across the face. "You and Blondie."

As Merlin recoiled in fear, he saw a flash of blond hair move in the background, just behind Tristan's head.

A second later, the cafeteria worker slumped lifelessly to the ground, head bleeding copiously, with Arthur stood over him, clutching the long metal weapon in his hands.

Merlin blinked blearily, his heart almost bursting from his chest, the cafeteria instantly descending into absolute silence. He could even hear himself breathing in the roaring quiet, long and ragged, sweat rolling down the side of his face and blurring his vision.

"He dropped it when he was struggling with you," Arthur explained softly, looking down at the weapon in hands and dropping it to the floor. It hit the tiles with an almost deafening clang and rolled away, stopping slowly next to Tristan's motionless body.

"Well, that was exciting," Mordred said into the silence, seemingly jolting everyone from their trances.

The guards pushed forwards, this time unchallenged by the druids, and snapped cuffs on Tristan's dangling wrists, just as Arthur's knees buckled and he slumped slowly to the ground.

He and Merlin stared at each other, neither blinking, both weak and cringing in pain. Arthur was gasping, like he'd just run a marathon, when in fact the fight had lasted no longer than a couple of minutes, both his and Tristan's blood completely coating his torso.

He stared at Merlin in bemusement, just as the guards descended on them, looking nothing but completely shell-shocked. "Merlin, I can't believe you just did that," he said disbelievingly, shaking his golden head.

* * *

><p>One day later, Merlin was still pacing up and down his cell, eagerly awaiting Arthur's return.<p>

After Tristan had been dragged away, kicking and screaming the day before, Lancelot and Arthur had both been taken to the medical bay in order to be looked over, only for the blond to be taken into isolation an hour later. Considering he'd had a ferocious fight with a fellow criminal, Merlin had expected the blond to be gone for days, but Will had delightfully informed him that Arthur would be released after only a night, the guards evidently taking into account that he'd only been acting in self-defence.

And so Merlin waited impatiently, glancing at the door every few seconds, wanting to reassure himself that Arthur was both safe and uninjured. The fight had scared the life out of him, and he never wanted to feel so helpless again, watching Arthur get hurt while powerless to stop it.

He let out a cry of frustration and sunk dejectedly onto the bed, burying his head in his hands, just as the cell door swung open.

"Merlin?" Arthur questioned hesitantly, crossing over the threshold.

Merlin leapt to his feet and tackled his cellmate around the waist, clutching at his back and burying his face into his neck. He suppressed a sob of relief as Arthur's arms encircled him, breathing in his scent with long loud inhalations, barely able to control the elation rolling off him in waves.

"Are you ok?" he asked, voice muffled against Arthur's shoulder.

The blond snorted, sounding gruff but strangely affectionate. "I'm fine. I should be asking you the same thing after what you did yesterday," he muttered, pressing a kiss into the side of Merlin's neck.

Merlin let out a choked laugh, attempting to breeze over it. "Oh, it was nothing," he lied, ignoring the pointed throb of his wrists where Tristan had bruised him. "How's Lancelot?"

Arthur paused a moment before answering, pulling back to look Merlin in the eye. "Still in the medical bay with concussion." He smiled slightly, expression playful and coy, white teeth flashing in the dim light. "Gwen's taking good care of him."

Merlin laughed. "I bet she is." He met Arthur's eyes for one brief moment, and blushed, quickly clearing his throat. "And what about Tristan?"

Arthur's face hardened, his previous teasing edge vanishing in the blink of an eye. He let out a long sigh and shrugged. "He's been transferred to another wing of the prison," he replied, unable to prevent a hint of smugness and satisfaction from creeping into his voice. "That wasn't just a normal prison fight. He had a weapon. And it's not the first time he's attacked Lancelot. He's going to be charged."

Merlin let out a sharp gasp of relief, the knots in his stomach lightening significantly. They'd done it: Nimueh had been arrested and Tristan contained. It was finally over!

"So, that's it then?" he asked, almost unable to believe it.

"That's it." Arthur nodded, giving Merlin a small but genuine smile. He shifted his weight and crossed his arms, glancing briefly down at the floor. "But there's still the matter of us," he said, looking up at his cellmate from under long fair lashes. "You said I had to decide."

Merlin took in a breath, body frozen, although his heart was beating erratically in his chest. "And have you?"

"What do you think?" Arthur asked. But before Merlin could make any sort of reply, he leaned forwards, capturing his lips in a small soft kiss.

"Are you sure?" Merlin asked, just as they drew apart.

The blond rolled his eyes, looking fondly exasperated. "Merlin, yesterday you put yourself in danger to try and save me," he admitted, sounding faintly amazed. "Nobody has cared that much about me before. I don't want that to change."

"It won't," Merlin stated, with complete and utter conviction.

"Good," Arthur smiled, grasping Merlin's hand and tugging him onto his bed. "Because I feel exactly same way about you."

To be continued...

* * *

><p>AN That's almost it! Only 1 chapter to go! I will be relieved when this is all posted ;)

Thanks to everyone who has reviewed, please continue and let me know what you think :)


	14. A Free Man

_A/N So this is it... THE LAST CHAPTER! _

_WARNINGS: Explicit SLASH in this chapter! You have been warned. If you'd rather skip the sexitimes scroll about halfway down the page._

* * *

><p><strong><span>Cellmate<span>**

**Chapter 14 - A Free Man**

Unable to prevent himself from resisting Arthur for a second longer, Merlin kissed him, all passionate tongues and wanton desire. It was deep, thorough, and sent tingles shooting down his spine - not to mention blood rushing straight to his cock.

He brought his hands up to his _boyfriend's_ hair and entwined his fingers into the silky strands, using the grip to pull Arthur impossibly closer, bodies flush against each other.

It felt different than it was before, less strained, and strangely intimate, as though Arthur was making a proper effort and was truly invested in the outcome. The thought left Merlin shivering, and he moaned, swallowing his cellmate's tongue into his mouth and thrusting his hips in a haphazard rhythm.

Both letting out breathy sighs, they collapsed onto the mattress and tangled their legs together, erections brushing teasingly through the material of their clothing.

"Clothes off," Arthur gasped, tugging away his mouth and moving fumbling hands to Merlin's shirt, face flushed and lips swollen. He let out a ragged moan against his boyfriend's ear and tugged at his top, so characteristically impatient, Merlin felt his heart skip.

But he grinned and complied nevertheless, lifting up his arms and allowing himself to be stripped, no longer self-conscious under Arthur's unwavering stare. He allowed the blond to place messy kisses down his chest, lap at his stomach and stroke at his sides, leaving him a shuddering wreck beneath Arthur's bucking body.

"I think I'm at a bit of a disadvantage here," Merlin couldn't help but point out, gesturing to his almost naked self and waving a pointed arm at his boyfriend's clothing.

The blond rolled his eyes but sat upright, stripping off his own shirt in one swift motion. The bare skin was just how Merlin remembered: smooth, shiny and bronzed.

But before he could truly enjoy the sight, Arthur startled him from his daydreams. "You're not going to ruin this by talking, are you?" he asked, attempting to sound longsuffering but merely sounding playful.

Merlin grinned and arched his hips, eyes glittering cheekily. "You love it," he replied, quite confident with his answer.

Arthur grumbled, but made no verbal objection, choosing instead to simply lower himself back into his lover's embrace. He sucked at Merlin's jaw, enticing a moan, and tweaked at his nipples, rubbing them into sharp pink peaks. His tongue lapped at his boyfriend's skin, teeth nipping, until Merlin felt sure he was going to bruise.

"Marks?" he gasped, running a finger down the side of Arthur's face and to the smooth slope of his neck. He wanted to know if the blond trusted him enough to let him mark, just like Arthur was marking him. "Can I mark _you_ now?"

The blond froze, removing his mouth from Merlin's neck with a dull pop. He glanced up to look at him through hooded eyes, looking conflicted and unsure.

"Do you trust me?" Merlin asked, because this was the test he'd been waiting for. A test to see if his relationship with Arthur would really work; whether the blond would trust him enough to be _equal_.

"Yes," came the reply, although it was reluctant. But Merlin was not surprised; he supposed that Arthur would always be hesitant about admitting his feelings.

"Well, you'll let me do what I want then," the dark-haired man pointed out, holding his boyfriend's gaze. "Right?"

Arthur let out a breath, but he nodded, adorably flustered. "Right," he confirmed, licking his lips and brushing his fringe out of his eyes.

Merlin smiled. "Whatever I want?"

"Whatever you want."

"Good," Merlin replied, leaning upwards and tugging the blond back down towards him. He grasped at the back of Arthur's head and tilted it to the side, baring the side of his long smooth neck to his hungry teeth. Unable to wait any longer, he bit down on the skin, causing his boyfriend to jump in surprise and let out a rather breathy groan.

Grinning in triumph, Merlin continued his ministrations until Arthur was a sobbing wreck, sucking at his neck, shoulders and collarbone, leaving no inch untouched. And soon enough, his cellmate's chest was a mass of red tender skin, soft pointed teeth marks, and was moist with shimmering saliva.

Merlin had well and truly made his point.

"Christ," Arthur breathed, reconnecting their lips and licking his way back into his boyfriend's mouth with brand new enthusiasm, arousal straining against his pants. "Naked, now!"

Their boxers were discarded in record time, bodies pushed painfully against each other, with Merlin's hands clutching frantically at the newly revealed skin. His fingers descended down his boyfriend's back, feeling the muscles flex and the pool of sweat that was gathering there, heading straight to his mouth-watering backside. He pinched at it playfully before pulling it towards him, using it as leverage to grind their naked arousals together.

Arthur moaned pornographically and flung back his head, pre-cum seeping from his cock and onto Merlin's stomach, making their movements slick and easy. They rutted in the same way for several moments, both enjoying the sensation of the other's naked skin, before it became all too much for Merlin to handle.

He took in a calmly breath and stilled his movements, looking up into his boyfriend's bewildered face.

"Whatever I want, yes?" he repeated, as Arthur nodded confusedly in reply.

Taking the answer as the invitation he needed, Merlin instantly pushed upwards, catching the blond off guard and causing him to lose his balance. Using the momentum, Merlin switched their positions, landing on top of the flailing blond with a heavy thump.

"Wha - ?" Arthur choked in surprise, before Merlin's mouth descended down his stomach.

"I get to be in charge," Merlin explained, glancing up from under his eyelashes and giving his boyfriend's cock a tentative lick.

Arthur arched upwards and let his head fall back, unable to say anything more, or indeed voice any sort of argument. He merely lost himself in the sensations of Merlin's tongue, feeling it lap at his straining cock before his mouth descended on it completely, hot, wet, and embarrassingly eager. The blond felt his hips buck instinctively and cursed, closing his eyes against the vibrations, quivering hands fisting desperately at the bed sheets.

But before Arthur's arousal could build any further, Merlin pulled away his mouth and hooked his arms around his boyfriend's sweaty thighs, pulling his legs wide apart so he could settle comfortably between them. He licked at the crease there and nuzzled his nose affectionately against the skin, hearing Arthur let out a whining complaint from beneath him.

"Tease," the blond joked, his voice sounding thick and throaty.

Merlin grinned triumphantly but didn't reply, focusing instead on exploring the almost uncharted territory between his boyfriend's legs; Arthur had never _really_ allowed him to explore before - despite how often they'd slept together - and the new freedom was leaving him almost dizzy with arousal. Arthur had his legs spread for _him_!

Feeling giddy with the unvoiced permission, Merlin stroked softly at his cellmate's wet red cock, brushed his hands through his pubic hair and dipped his fingers towards the cleft of his ass, nudging pointedly between the cheeks.

Arthur jerked and lifted his head, eyes wide and blood-shot. "What are you -?"

Merlin looked up to meet his gaze, giving his finger a meaningful push and feeling it breach Arthur's tight ring of muscle, causing his own cock to throb painfully at the sight.

The blond started and cursed, thighs trembling on either side of Merlin's head.

"You said you trusted me," Merlin pointed out, moving his hand with soft smooth movements and watching his finger disappear between his boyfriend's puckered hole. "Have you _ever_ been on the bottom before?"

"N-no…" Arthur choked, jerking his hips and evidently not noticing the wide victorious smile spreading across his boyfriend's face.

"Good," Merlin breathed, feeling as though his face was about to split in half through sheer happiness.

He lowered his head and moved his finger, crocking it experimentally while watching Arthur spread his legs wider in invitation. Unable to resist, he leant forwards, brushing his lips against his boyfriend's reddening balls and flicking out his tongue next to his very own hand, rimming Arthur's stretching hole with his mouth.

"Holy fuck!" came his cellmate's cry of response, ripped unwillingly from the back of his throat.

Merlin grinned and repeated the action, using his spare hand to hold down Arthur's legs as he added another finger, scissoring them apart in his cellmate's tight hot heat. It was a sight that made his cock throb tenderly against his stomach, but he made no move to touch himself, instinctively knowing that he would climax in less than a micro-second.

So he just enjoyed the moment, and watched Arthur moan and writhe beneath him, chest heaving and legs coated in sweat. Merlin had never really been top before, but having _so_ much control over the blond was frighteningly liberating, a thought which filled him with uncontrollable pride.

"You're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen," he remarked, because it was utterly true. He added another finger and watched Arthur arch his back, flushed, aroused and all sorts of beautiful. "I'm going to come inside of you."

"Nnnghhh!" Arthur moaned, breathing raggedly. "Now! Do it now!"

Unable to resist a direct order, Merlin did exactly what the blond said, extracting his fingers with a experimental wiggle and leaning over to the bedside drawer. He immediately found the oil where Arthur had kept it, untouched since their last time, and felt his heart shoot instantly into his throat.

He leant up to give Arthur a soft kiss before uncapping the top, coating his fingers in the thick cool substance.

Arthur watched him with heavy eyes, still splayed lazily on the mattress, legs parted invitingly. He met Merlin's gaze with a languid smile and beckoned him closer, breathing warm and erratic against his ear. "I trust you," he admitted, voice low and honest, filling Merlin with a desire so uncontrollable he thought he might pass out from the intensity of it; Arthur was _his_ and he needed him_ now_.

He swiftly returned to his position between his boyfriend's thighs and pushed three fingers straight back into Arthur's reddening hole, hand dripping with lube. The entry was tight, but slightly smoother than before, giving Merlin every reason to believe the blond was ready.

So removing his hand, he hooked his arms beneath Arthur's legs and nudged them upwards, until they were curled tightly around his waist, his leaking erection slipping deliciously against his cellmate's entrance.

Simply incapable of waiting for one second more, he arranged his cock clumsily against the puckered hole, and propelled his hips slowly forwards, breaching the tight ring of muscle in a single stroke.

Arthur pushed up against him and clung to his back, mouth opening into an agonising 'oh'. He was tight - tighter than even Merlin had expected - but was hot and slick, muscles contracting around Merlin's cock as they parted to accommodate him. It was almost unbearable - so much so, Merlin couldn't stop himself from moving, pushing deeper into the addictive heat.

The blond moaned but made no objections, head falling back to expose his neck to Merlin's ravaging teeth, back bowed gloriously in pleasure.

He was panting, dirty and hot, just as Merlin drew out and drove immediately back in, brow shining with their mingling sweat.

They soon established a messy rhythm, hips smacking against each other, until Merlin was practically gasping for release. He panted against Arthur's neck, thrusts erratic, and attempted to hold back his orgasm, rotating his body in an almost automatic motion. But he couldn't hold back the inevitable, and it wasn't long until his balls tightened painfully, signalling his incoming release.

Letting out a cry, he brought his hand down to Arthur's cock and gave it a long sharp tug, feeling it burst messily over his palm.

Arthur's muscles clenched around him and he came, long, hard and deep, biting down on his boyfriend's collarbone to stop himself from howling.

It was over all too soon and he collapsed, lying limply over Arthur's sticky chest.

"Oh my god," the blond breathed, legs falling shakily back onto the mattress. "That was amazing."

Merlin smiled, feeling uncontrollably ecstatic. "You're amazing," he corrected, and lent up to give his new boyfriend a long filthy kiss…

* * *

><p>One week later and Merlin <em>still<em> hadn't recovered from his post coital haze.

Much to his pleasure, he and Arthur had spent the week glued to each other's sides, touching, bickering and having plenty of vigorous sex, just to make up for lost time. They'd become so indiscreet that even most of the prisoners now knew of their relationship, and although shocked and disbelieving, their fear of Arthur's wrath had kept their unpleasant opinions at bay.

Merlin even _liked_ the fact that he could now place his hand on Arthur's thigh for all the communal area to see; he liked watching the prisoners widen their eyes in surprise and scowl at him in jealousy. It made him feel almost triumphant, because he was with Arthur, and Arthur was _his_. It was a strange feeling of possessiveness that he'd never really felt before, but he didn't allow it to bother him, because Arthur seemed to share it as well.

Despite his happiness, however, and their new camaraderie, there was still one thing weighing on his mind. The appeal had gone to court, the documents were filed, and it was time for Merlin to go home.

Although both he and Arthur knew of his impending departure, neither had deemed to mention it, choosing instead to bask in the contentment of their new relationship, rather than dwell on a situation that would undoubtedly drive them apart.

But time was running out, and Merlin was finally due his freedom.

He sat in the cafeteria, a day before his release, and tried to decide how to approach the matter with his boyfriend. His departure was imminent and he could no longer ignore it, even if it did ruin everything he and Arthur had built together.

"Last supper," Will said over his dinner, startling Merlin from his musings and saying what the rest of them had all been too scared to voice.

"Looks like it," Merlin replied neutrally, just as Arthur looked away.

Lancelot shifted uncomfortably in his seat beside the blond and gave him a small smile, attempting to look reassuring. But the strain was visible; he felt bad for his friend.

"Going to miss this place?" Will continued, obviously oblivious to the tension.

Merlin shrugged and looked round the hall, taking in the bustling prisoners and the longsuffering guards. "Not the place. The people."

"Me most of all, right?" Will asked, grinning inanely, seemingly unable to drop the subject.

But before Merlin had a chance to reply (to which he was grateful), Mordred materialised next to their table, looking as blank and uninterested as usual.

Arthur jumped and glared, but Merlin merely rolled his eyes, secretly glad the druid had interrupted their increasingly uncomfortable conversation.

"Mordred," he nodded, by way of greeting.

Although he hadn't forgiven the druid for his betrayal in Arthur's fight with Tristan, Merlin knew that it had been foolish to expect anything else. Mordred and Arthur were enemies and always would be, despite their temporarily allegiance. But the Nimueh fiasco had caused them to reach an uneasy understanding, in which their disputes were confined to snippy banter and glaring matches; they'd both agreed to do nothing to _actively_ harm the other, and that was the best Merlin could really hope for.

"I heard you were leaving," Mordred muttered, not bothering with pleasantries. He sneered at their small gathering with a look of great distaste, before turning to Merlin, lip curling nastily. "Good luck, I suppose. No doubt you'll need it."

And with that the druid turned and glided away, leaving all the occupants of the table blinking behind him.

Arthur was first to speak. "Did he actually wish you luck?" he asked, sounding faintly disbelieving.

"Sort of." Merlin nodded. "In a rather insulting way."

"He's obviously in a good mood," Lancelot commented, shrugging his shoulders. "The police - by which I mean Uther - found out that Nimueh was embezzling the money for a drug ring. She's going to be going down for a _very_ long time. And I heard that Morgana's been released. False charges. I guess they realised Nimueh set her up as well."

"Well, better late than never," Will muttered, and Merlin couldn't agree more.

* * *

><p>Unfortunately, before Merlin knew it, the day of his release had come.<p>

He and Arthur had still not discussed his departure, choosing instead to remain in their land of happy obliviousness, but they could avoid the inevitable no longer.

They were stood in a bleakly white hallway, near the opening of the prison, waiting for the guards to come to set Merlin free. Lancelot and Will had also come to bid their goodbyes, both looking uncomfortable and solemn in the dim light, uncharacteristically silent.

It was strange, knowing that he was going to leave them all behind. The thought of saying goodbye was almost too difficult for Merlin to contemplate. Sleeping with Arthur the night before had been hard enough; the fact it was their last time together for the foreseeable future had weighed heavily on both their minds. It had been dirty, and desperate, and afterwards Merlin had to shove a fist in his own mouth to stop himself from crying.

He couldn't leave Arthur or the prison; he just couldn't. Because despite his fears, his insecurities, and the problems he'd faced, he'd actually come to regard the prison as home.

"Well, I guess this is goodbye," he said into the silence, aware that he was stating the obvious, but completely unable to think of anything more appropriate to say.

"Cheerio, mate," Will grinned, reaching forward to give him a friendly pat on the back.

Merlin smiled, although it might have been quite wobbly. "Bye Will," he muttered, returning his friend's playful gesture. "Keep an eye on _him_ for me." Merlin flicked his teasing gaze over to Arthur, who was looking amusingly affronted.

"Oh, I will." Will's eyes narrowed suspiciously at the blond. "A very close eye."

"Thanks," Merlin replied empathically, despite Arthur's obvious annoyance, simply having nothing else to say.

"Good luck, Merlin," Lancelot smiled, drawing forward to give him a warm brief hug. "I haven't even known you that long, and I'll definitely miss you around here."

"Well, yes, obviously." Merlin jerked a finger in the direction of Arthur and Will, who were glaring at each other discreetly. "You'll just be stuck with those two for company."

Lancelot laughed. Arthur scowled. "Hey!" he cried.

Merlin sobered immediately, turning to his boyfriend with a pale, drawn face. "Oh, you know I'll miss you," he placated, taking in a quivering breath. Despite how much he loved Will and Lancelot, saying goodbye to Arthur was undoubtedly the hardest. "Do you know when you'll be out?"

"Well, I've got a couple of years until I can appeal," Arthur explained, shrugging his shoulders and attempting to look nonchalant. "Maybe less, if Uther can pull some strings."

Merlin couldn't argue with that; knowing Uther and all his impossible connections, the blond would probably be released in months. "Your father's good at that," he admitted.

Arthur's lips curled, exasperated and longsuffering. "Yes, I suppose he is."

Merlin looked down and took in a breath, knowing that he had to say some things before it was too late. He didn't want his relationship with Arthur to deteriorate through assumptions and misunderstandings; it already had once before, and he simply couldn't go through it again. He cared too much now.

"You do know…that I'll wait for you?" he asked, feeling a flush creep up his neck. He gave the blond a smile and shrugged, trying to be casual. "Or maybe I can do something ridiculous like Will, and get sent straight back in."

"Petty theft is always a good way to go," his friend chirped in the background, as helpful as ever.

Merlin rolled his eyes. "Thanks Will."

Arthur laughed. "You'd do that?" he asked, sounding both hopeful and disbelieving.

"Arthur, I jumped on the back of a complete nut-job to save you," Merlin pointed out, figuring there was no point in trying to hide his devotion; the whole Tristan fiasco had made his feelings perfectly clear. "There's not a lot I wouldn't do for you. Love makes us do funny things."

Arthur started, eyes wide. "_Love_ - ?"

"Look, I'm not expecting a big declaration from you," Merlin interrupted calmly, before Arthur could freak out and ruin everything. The blond might have come on leaps and bounds regarding his feelings, but he was still _Arthur_, and Arthur simply didn't do romantic. "I just want you to know how I feel."

"No, it's….You do know I feel the same way, right?" the blond replied, to Merlin's immense surprise, face embarrassingly flustered. He took a deep breath and glanced uncomfortably at Will and Lancelot, who were both looking in the opposite direction and pretending not to hear anything. "Because I do."

Merlin smiled, bright and beaming, knowing he probably looked ridiculous but utterly incapable of caring. Arthur_ loved _him! And ok, he hadn't said the actual words, but the intent was clear, and deep down, Merlin knew it was as close as he was ever going to come to hearing it. And strangely, he found it was more than enough. "I love you too," he replied.

They stared at each other for a long time, both unblinking, in a way that was both ridiculously sappy and chillingly romantic.

But before Merlin could begin to well up in tears, their moment was softly interrupted.

"It's time to go," Will informed them, gesturing helplessly to the guards, who were making there way over to collect him.

Merlin took in a shuddering breath, hugging both Will and Lancelot in turn, before turning straight back to his boyfriend, heart thumping erratically in his chest. He leant forwards and caught Arthur's lips in a breathy kiss, resisting the urge to cling to his shirt and never let go. "I'll see you very soon," he grinned, confident and reassuring.

The blond smiled, and it was both playful and challenging.

"I'll look forward to it," he replied…

**-THE END -**

* * *

><p><em><strong>AN**__ OMG I FINALLY FINISHED. THANK GOD FOR THAT!_

_I tried to end this in a somewhat believable way (come on, Arthur stabbed two people, so he wasn't going to be magically released!) but I left the ending pretty open. You can draw your own conclusions about what happens, whether it's Merlin waiting for Arthur on the outside, or committing a crime to go back in ;) I just hope it doesn't disappoint too many people!_

_Thanks very much to everyone who left reviews - I know the wait must have been frustrating, but I said I would finish and I did (eventually) ;) _

_Please R&R! _


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